
LOUISE C.C 


YORK 


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/ / f Jo w- 

1 V \ 

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1 





























Uncle Sam 


by 

LOUISE CRITTENDEN CASE 

n 

ILLUSTRATED / 



BROADWAY PUBLISHING COMPANY 
835 BROADWAY, NEW YORK 




Copyright , 1912, 

BY 

Louise Crittenden Case 





©C!. A328743 % 

'KQ.’xr X 











“And a little child shall lead them” 























CONTENTS 


Chapter 

I. 

SamTs Education - 


_ 

Page 

I 

II. 

Strangers 


- 

I 6 

III. 

A Musical Prodigy 



37 

IV. 

Fair, Fat and Forty 



5 i 

V. 

A Challenge - 



63 

VI. 

Among the Cat-tails 



82 

VII. 

Fishing - 



92 

VIII. 

A Pauper Prince - 



107 

IX. 

A Lawsuit 

- 


122 

X. 

Love Not All 



153 

XI. 

Courting 



173 

XII. 

Letters - 



197 

XIII. 

Drifting 



213 

XIV. 

His Sister 



221 

XV. 

Lydia’s Wedding - 



238 

XVI. 

Remembrance 



260 

XVII. 

A Million Dollar Deal 



277 

XVIII. 

An Engagement 



295 

XIX. 

Master and Slave - 

- 


3 12 

XX. 

Confessions - 



3 2 7 

XXI. 

Uncle Sam’s Chanct 



337 

















Uncle Sam 


CHAPTER I. 

sam'l's education 

“Sam Saylor, I wonder what ’tis you have 
in your arms?” 

“It’s cal’n’dars, Seenie, an’ I got the very best 
ones I c’d find in town.” Uncle Sam hung his 
old plug hat on a chair and parted his long coat 
tails as he seated himself. A peculiar twinkle 
lighted his deep-set eyes, overhung by shaggy 
brows, as he leisurely unrolled his package. His 
wife eyed him with curious distrust. 

“If I have my way an’ say, Sam, every one 
’ll go straight ’s a kite into the fire, for they 
ain’t needed sence the days fly by jest ’s fast 
cal’n’dars or no cal’n’dars.” 

His massive face resembled a seared country 
stretch in furrowed lines in its serious aspect 
and he spoke gravely: 

“Seenie, I’ve been studyin’ ’bout this new 
way of ed’catin’ an’ I’ve took might’ly to the 
[i] 


UNCLE SAM 


idee that a child can’t begin l’arnin’ too young. 
Now I’ve been cal’latin’ ’bout givin’ Sam’l a 
good start by use of the needed tools an’ them 
cal’n’dars is for a perpose. I’ve set my mind to 
havin’ this boy the pick of his gin’ration an’ 
I’m goin’ to ’tend to his ed’cation sence it’s 
needful to have some one that’s understand^’ 
an’ pertic’ler.” Uncle Sam was so absorbed by 
his new plans he failed to note the look on his 
wife’s face as she continued the preparations 
for the evening meal. Then she burst forth 
volubly : 

“Sam Saylor, I believe so much trash readin’ 
has turned what little brains you had an’ I’ve 
warned you ’bout goin’ to the crazy house. 
What are you drivin’ at? You ort to know 
that sweet baby wouldn’t know the numbers 
from the side of a barn door.” She pounded 
the biscuits with renewed vigor. 

“Now, Seenie, don’t go hot-shot ag’in, but 
you an Maria hark to what I’m sayin’ an’ you’ll 
be all the wiser for’t.” Uncle Sam rose as he 
spoke and in an impressive voice addressed 
them, squaring his broad shoulders and strok- 
ing his long, white beard thoughtfully with his 
right hand. 

“You know that the chanct of l’arnin’ didn’t 
come my way. I c’d have been a Jedge at the 
bar, a Gin’ral in the army, a Doctor of bones 
or anythin’ most if somebody’d have give me 
[ 2 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


the chanct to l’arn my books. I don’t want 
Sam’l to say when he’s growed up that he never 
had no helpin’ han’, for I’m goin’ to guide him 
’long the right road so’s we c’n have a boy to 
be proud of. Them cal’n’dars seem no good to 
you, Seenie, but they’ll be a power for good if 
used rightly. 

“When you see a smart feller don’t think 
that he made hisself — no, there was some one 
behind him givin’ the push an’ showin’ of the 
way. I didn’t have no kindly eye on me when 
I was a shindy brat helpin’ ma make the livin’ 
for a lot of hungry little shavers. Now I’m 
goin’ to see that my namesake ’s well took care 
of, an’ that he has his show in the worl’.” His 
auditors seemed much impressed by this feeling 
explanation as to his purpose. 

“Seenie, it was luck findin’ that writin’ which 
has took hold o’ my mind for now we’ll lose 
no time with Sam’l. He must have his blocks 
an’ dom’noes; Maria, set him down an’ I’ll 
give him the fust figurin’ lesson. Red’s the 
guidin’ color so he’ll notice the numbers I 
know.” Sam’l took the pasteboard and looked 
it over with much interest, while the others 
watched him closely. 

“He’s notin’ the diff’rent figur’s an’ I bet a 
bright dollar that he’ll soon see toted up they’ll 
make a big sum.” His grandfather was de- 
[ 3 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


lighted with the comprehensive expression in 
the baby’s big, round eyes. 

‘‘Sammy, there’s one — two — three. One — 
two — three — four — five. Look at them good 
so’s you’ll know the next time.” Uncle Sam 
smiled anxiously into the little face turned to 
him. 

“Sam, I’ve not a mite o’ patience with you 
for bein’ sich a fool. He’s too little yit, an’ no 
notion what you’re talkin’ ’bout — no more than 
the white cat.” 

“He’s reasonin’ all the time, Seenie, an’ he’s 
not too young to study for he’s thinkin’ more’n 
we guess. Now, Sam’l, more numbers — one — 
two — three. He’s took to the idee an’ now 
wants to see if July ’s more days ’n June. My 
—how puzzled he is, an’ he’s tearin’ them up, 
to show how many days in the month — ain’t 
he clever?” 

“Sam, do you b’lieve all that trash you’re 
talkin’?” Uncle Sam was too interested in his 
experiment to reply. 

“He sees that he can’t read them the same 
upside down, an’ wonders what the trouble is. 
Count up the figur’s, Sam’l, an’ gran’pap ’ll git 
you a baseball bat.” 

“Pa, look out there. I knew it. See the 
color dyeing his cheeks, and his little mouth is 
all red.” His mother went to the rescue. 

“Sam, take that stuff away from that sweet 

[ 4 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

baby an’ throw it in the fire. Don’t you see he’s 
got a piece in his throat, Maria, pound him on 
the back I You know everythin’ goes in his 
mouth.” Seenie was much disgusted with her 
husband. 

u Whew — ! Is you all right, Sammy? Ain’t 
goin’ to cry? Mustn’t try to eat up your lesson 
paper.” Uncle Sam walked up and down the 
long room saying absently: 

“When he’s six he’ll be through the Brighton 
school an’ ready for college days. There’s one 
thing botherin’ me, Seenie, what he’ll do when 
he l’arns more than all his teachers — who’ll 
show him then?” 

“Seems to me when he knows more’n the 
Creator hisself he’ll need no teachin’.” Seenie 
still scoffed and sniffed at all that was said. 

“Now, Sammy, we’ll have your readin’ an’ 
spellin’ lesson, an’ this shows him how to think 
too an’ talk as well.” The bright colored blocks 
were put on the floor and Uncle Sam began 
with his usual enthusiasm: “This is A an’ this is 
B an’ C. AB — AB. BA — BA. That’s the way 
to spell, Sam’l. Now, ain’t he doin’ fine? You 
know, Maria, that he c’n see these are not the 
same, an’ soon he’ll be puttin’ words together 
an’ thinkin’ it’s jest play. Make l’arnin’ play 
an’ they take to it fine. His figurin’ ’ll be easy 
’cause I’ll show him with them dom’noes. I 
wants to find out what he likes the best an’ 

[ 5 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


give him plenty of it for we should all run to 
a p’int an’ what ’ll it be with Sam’l? I won’t 
make no farmer of him if he ain’t took that 
way, no sir — ee. I’m hopin’ that it ’ll be writin’ 
so’s we c’n git the book up in good shape but it 
may be paintin’ pictures or houses mayhap, but 
if we don’t talk baby nonsense to him he’ll be 
a smart little chap ’fore long helpin’ his mind 
in its work. They got to l’arn an’ why not 
do it the right way for you can’t overdo the 
thing ’s some think. The more you stack up 
the more you can, jest usin’ all you want an’ 
there’s more to call for when you need it. If 
you carry a calf can’t you carry a cow? so ’tis 
with l’arnin’, an’ folks ’s jest beginnin’ to find 
out they didn’t know much goin’ a roun’ ’bout 
way an’ makin’ failur’s after years of book 
teachin’.” 

“Them progidy’s mostly turn out bad an’ 
end in the mad house,” remarked Seenie, be- 
ginning to be disturbed by her husband’s new 
hobby. 

“Shucks! Sam’l ain’t no real progidy, but 
jest a ready-made one by new ways. He’ll bs 
’s likely ’s any other boy wantin’ to play an’ 
swap marbles an’ fly kites, but he’ll know a 
heap. Oh, if I had his chanct.” Uncle Sam 
sighed as he spoke. “Ed’cation ’s that which 
can’t be took from us.” 

“Sam, if you’d been so mighty ed’cated a 

[ 6 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


good man’d gone to waste. If you’d been a 
lawyer you’d been tricky; an’ doctors jest cut 
folks to pieces an’ men with money can’t rest 
for wantin’ other folks’ too. I’m glad you’re 
jest plain man, but I do wish that you was more 
like other folks, not alwus gittin’ these notions.” 

“Wa’al, Seenie, folks jest live the onct an’ 
why not live it right? If we was all like you 
nuthin’ but Fulton’s steamboat ’d be goin’ on 
the Hudson, an’ how I do regret not bein’ able 
to take Sam’l to that cel’bratin’ so’s he could 
see all that’s been done in the last three hun- 
dred years an’ see an airship flyin’ roun’ ’bout 
Liberty Lady.” Uncle Sam was seeking an 
opportunity to express himself of his latest plan 
and seizing this opening he promptly began : 

“Ed’cation in the young is got by travel, an’ 
I cal’late that one of the best ways to ed’cate 
Sam’l ’d be to take him on a long trip. I’ve 
been studyin’ his future an’ I seem to see the 
chanct for him in the West. There’s room to 
grow up broad ’ithout crampin’ of civ’lization, 
for the great prairie kentry breathes freedom 
an’ his sky line ’ll be much bigger there.” 
Seenie broke in sharply as she clattered the 
dishes. 

“Sam Saylor, where you think you’re goin’ 
now? Don’t cuddle no notion that you’re goin’ 
to git me into any of your trips for I ain’t goin’ 
no further than the barn to see after the cows 

[ 7 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


an’ you can come ’long an’ help.” She slammed 
the coffee pot to show disapproval of what was 
to come while her husband looked calmly at her 
with his mild eyes as was his custom. 

“Pshaw! My folks ain’t no travelers, but if 
you wish to see the gran’ an’ glowin’ West 
come ’long with me an’ Sam’l for we’re goin’ 
to take up a claim an’ I’ll be fixed to suit my 
fancies at last.” 

“Your fancies have been many, an’ I’ll not 
be one to send sich a rollin’ stone a-gatherin’ 
of no more moss, for when I married you 
’twas for the purpose of givin’ your girls a 
good home sence you’d never seen fit to make 
one for ’em. Now Lissie would take up with 
any wild idee but as for me — I’m that wise to 
jest nip it right in the bud so no harm’s done 
by its growin’ ; an’ the only claim you should 
take up is a claim for lunacy to my mind.” She 
stopped for breath, her fat face very flushed 
with indignation. 

“Now, you’ve had your say, I’ll please to 
have mine. This is the scope of my latest 
an’ best plan. We might jest ’s well lay claim 
to some of them idle lands as the next one, an’ 
my idee’ll bring in more than this farm which 
ain’t the best land.” 

“Don’t you go to runn'in’ down Andy’s farm, 
Sam Saylor, for I knows you can't find no bet- 
ter the worl* over, an’ as for me I’m willin' to 
[ 8 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


stay an’ farm this no ’count strip, go where 
you’re a mind to, but there ain’t goin’ to be no 
latchkey hangin’ out, ’member that.” She spoke 
with decision, but her husband was undisturbed, 
and he turned to his daughter: 

“Maria, don’t heed what Seenie says for she 
ain’t pergressive an’ you an’ me must think of 
this fine boy leadin’ me into this ventur’.” 

“Pa, I’m not favorin’ it for you know we 
ain’t never had any luck travelin.’ Think what 
a time we had in Florida — how our tents blew 
away, and the awful pole cats that ran off with 
the food; the mosquitoes and sand flies eating 
us up, and lack o’ money.” A bright spot 
glowed in Maria’s cheeks at the recollection. 
Seenie was pleased. 

“Maria, you’re young yit an’ don’t under- 
stand things alwus. I was short on cash and I 
couldn’t git hold of a hoss or mule to farm 
with an’ I had no win’ mill an’ it was too blasted 
hot to work.” Uncle Sam crossed the room 
with his long, swinging stride, and he soon re- 
turned with an old battered satchel which he 
opened meditatively, waiting for Seenie’s re- 
marks which came promptly: 

“Jest you take away that old rattletrap 
which has seen ’nough travelin’ from its looks.” 

“Seenie, wouldn’t you like to have nuthin’ 
to do, jest let others make your livin’ for you?” 

“Thought you said everybody should work, 

[ 9 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


Sam?” She spoke spitefully, eyeing him coldly. 

“By all reason they should, but if by this 
same reasoning they can find out a better way 
they should take to it mighty quick. I make a 
guess that if we start with Angora goats ” 

“Goats!” exclaimed his wife incredulously. 

“Yes, goats, Seenie, them’s what’s in my 
mind.” 

“Sam, you’re cracked an’ no mistake.” But 
Uncle Sam was undisturbed by her consterna- 
tion regarding his new plan. 

“To begin with, they can cl’ar the lan’ livin’ 
on sprouts an’ tree tops, an’ you know that 
goat meat is not outdone by the best, besides 
we c’n have the goat milk, givin’ us a finer 
dairy than here by a long shot. Now I figur’s 
— here it’s in black an’ white — that a drove of 
two hundred will bring in a thousand a year 
— easy money, too. After a few years we 
c’n grub out the lan’ for plantin’ an’ let them 
goats have a run of a hundred to a thousand 
acres an’ they pay for ’t. Why, folks, it’s been 
done in Missouri, they’ve paid for lan’ costin’ 
five per acre, five, too, on the savin’ of cl’arin’; 
then we c’n raise apple orchards. There’s smsll 
risk for goats as they enjoy good health on the 
prairies for they ain’t many dogs nor hunters. 
They make increase of sixty percent, an’ if we 
wanted to fence that ’d be the biggest expense. 
[io] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Now, listen, folks, an’ see this ’mazin’ re- 
sult: 


Goats. Kids. Culls. 

1 year 40 48 24 $100 

2 years 64 76 38 150 

3 years 102 122 61 250 

4 years 163 206 103 400 

5 years 266 319 160 650 

6 years 426 51 1 255 1,000 


$2,500 

“Now, see it, Maria an’ Seenie, down on pa- 
per.” 

“I see them crazy lookin’ figur’s but plans on 
paper never yit made a dollar ’ithout work be- 
hind it all.” 

“Shucks, Seenie! Wait till you hear all the 
plan. Now them goats, kids an’ culls, ’ll ’ve 
planted an’ paid for one hundred and sixty acres 
of good lan’ that planted to peach an’ plum 
from our own tree stock which we’ll raise ’ll 
make us free for life.” 

“Sam, you couldn’t raise nuthin’ on the side 
of a tropic mountain, but if you could talk your- 
self rich you’d be rollin’ in shiny dollars. Ain’t 
no race suicide ’mong goats.” 

“Seenie, all the big things of life has to be 
planned by somebody, an’ now that I’ve laid 
before you my aims are you willin’ to follow 
me to the big West?” 

“Thought you was goin’ to Or’gon jest the 
t’other day to raise fine apples, Sam?” 

[11] 


UNCLE SAM 

“Wa’al, them poor fellers that are settin’ 
out there waitin’ for the railroad to come don’t 
need my s’iety an’ you know I wouldn’t live 
where there ain’t no trains runnin’.” 

“Laws, that’s jest the place you should live 
so’s you’d have to set awhile.” Seenie enjoyed 
her little joke to the discomfiture of her hus- 
band who felt that his dignity had been assailed 
by such banter. 

“Sam, I knows your failin’s too well to give 
things over to sich a loose rein, an’ you know 
good an’ well if we started you’d never stop till 
you got to the ocean, an’ then you’d want to 
cross over so’s we’d never git back home.” 

“What dif’rence? There’s jest ’s fine pickin’ 
other places.” 

“We’d have the pickin’s of poverty did we 
trust ourselves to your tender care, Sam, an’ 
go where you please I’m goin’ to stick to the 
farm, Andy’s farm.” A mournful expression 
in the kindly face caused her to look at him 
more sympathetically for in her heart Seenie 
disliked to refuse Sam anything, but he didn’t 
know it. 

“Wasn’t you an’ Lem goin’ to raise alfalfa?” 
inquired Maria, as she tossed up the baby. 

“We did cal’late on it some but them goats 
’d be a fine sight better, an’ if Lem’ll go ’long 
with me we’ll jest leave you women folks to 
home. Maria, I’m goin’ to git a worl’ for the 
[12] 


UNCLE SAM 


boy so’s he c’n begin soon on his travelin’ study 
an’ I c’n l’arn with him for there’s more places 
I’d like to go to some day when Seenie ain’t 
so set like.” 

“Mercy sakes! Hope you won’t find out no 
more soon.” Seenie was still out of sorts for it 
always made her uneasy when Sam began his 
wanderin’ fit as she termed it. Left alone the 
two women looked inquiringly at one another. 

“Isn’t it dreadful how he wants to fly ’bout, 
Maria?” 

“Yes, we alwus had so much trouble with 
pa, but ma never objected to doing anything 
he wanted — seems ’s if she was willing to go as 
much ’s he was — they were like two children, 
an’ I’m glad you hold him in check. Why, we 
used to start on a trip an’ not have ’nough 
money to go halfway, but pa never minded nor 
did ma, an’ we got through somehow. Pa has 
never thought of the morrow, he says use the 
best an’ you’ll alwus have the best, but that 
ain’t my notion. I’ll take certain poverty to un- 
certain riches. But the delight of pa’s life is 
planning an’ making these fortunes on paper, 
an’ I tell Lem that he should have been one of 
these promoters. But he’s so interested in the 
baby’s education now that he may forget his trip 
an’ those goats.” 

Uncle Sam came briskly into the room, his 

[13] 


UNCLE SAM 


face alight with a new proposition which he had 
found in the paper he carried. 

“Seenie, jest you look at this a minute. Now 
I has found my chanct an’ no mistakin’. Hark 
while I reads it to you an’ Maria : 

“ ‘Orange County opened up in South Texas. 
Will give you a fine home cheap. Railroads 
and best markets. Finest garden spot in all 
the world. Rich men going there. Can raise 
anything desired — fruits and vegetables and 
hogs and fine cattle and ’ ” 

“Goats!” 

“Now you hesh, Seenie, while we talks this 
over, for I’m goin’ for sartin.” 

“Stop the train for your pa to git on, Maria, 
an’ good-bye Sam. Hopes you have luck for 
onct and finds that chanct, for I’m weary hearin’ 
’bout it day in an’ day out.” 

“Folks, this is the last time o’ askin’, an’ you 
ort to listen to reason. Op’tunity never knocks 
twice, an’ don’t you hear it knockin’ loud 
now ” 

“No, Sam, but I do hear some one poundin’ 
at the front door. Go an’ see who ’tis.” 
Seenie brushed back her hair and waited expec- 
tantly. 

“I hope nuthin’ ’s happened to Vallie — for 
who c’d be cornin’ at this hour? I told Jimmy 
I’d whip her if she stayed late, an’ I’m goin’ 
to do it. She should be here at home but Sam 

[14] 


UNCLE SAM 


was set on her goin’ ’long with the rest picnic- 
in’. He’ll make the child more no-’count, for 
he thinks she must have what the rest gits an’ 
never turn her hand to work. Maria, what 
will we do with your pa ? You c’n see that he’s 
goin’ to git off’n the farm if he can, an’ I’m 
’bout wore out tryin’ to hold him. The baby’s 
the only hope — sweet, pinkey darlin’, come to 
me, then. 

“Sammy, Sammy, c’n you keep him here?” 
Seenie was very serious as she talked to the 
little fellow, and in reply he said: “goo — goo 
—gurgle.” 


[I5l 


CHAPTER II. 


STRANGERS. 

“Evenin’, strangers. What c’n I do for 
you?” 

“We’ve had an accident with our car, and as 
it is now late, we do not know what arrange- 
ments to make for the night.” 

“I’ll be more ’n glad to help you out, sir. 
Walk right in, and have supper with us ; Seenie’s 
fixin’ it now — jest waitin’ for Vallie an’ Jinny 
to come home.” Without more ceremony Uncle 
Sam ushered them into the living room where 
his wife awaited the new arrivals. 

“This is my wife, second one, Seenie Saylor, 
an’ I’m jest plain Sam Saylor, Traveler.” 

“My mother and sister, Mrs. and Miss Ran- 
dolph.” The young man smiled pleasantly as 
he presented the ladies. 

“This is my oldest daughter, Mis’ Barnes, 
an’ she ’s the mother of Sam’l. Ain’t he a fine 
boy?” He spoke with pride as he tossed up 
the baby. “Sam’l, you been playin’ with my 
hat, ain’t you, an’ set flat on it? Wa’al, this 
hat ’s had a right smart history; I sends it into 
the house afore me an’ if it stays I follow; if 
not I don’t, for it tells how the weather is — 
[16] 


UNCLE SAM 


squalls or fair sailin’, eh, Seenie? He, he, he!” 

She did not reply, occupied in a study of their 
guests, garbed in auto wraps. Richard said he 
would go and see how great the damage had 
been to the car. Leaving them he was busily 
engaged in his task when he saw coming toward 
him a young girl, carrying in her hand clusters 
of wild roses. Her hat wreathed about a face 
suffused by unusual radiance, as rich in color as 
the roses she had plucked. She seemed to be 
the incarnation of joy as a snatch of song 
passed her lips unheeded. Suddenly she became 
aware of his presence and he smiled and said 
boyishly : 

“Is this Miss Saylor? We are intruding 
upon your father’s kind hospitality for I do not 
believe we will be able to proceed on our jour- 
ney to-night.” He had in that moment, when his 
eye had met hers boldly come to this decision, 
for the romance of the meeting seemed to have 
aroused more than a passing interest. 

Together they passed up the flower bordered 
path, talking with animation for she was brim- 
ming over with life and he had caught the in- 
fection; appearing before the others as though 
already they were friends. Uncle Sam was 
saying : 

“My! Wouldn’t I like to have one of them 
autos for a body c’d travel all the time.” 

“I think ’tis the last thing you need, Sam, 

[17] 


UNC LE SAM 

for I’d never know where you was day nor 
night.” 

“This is my little girl, Vallie, an’ I c’n see 
she’s had a good time to-day by the way she’s 
smilin’.” 

“It’s jest ’cause she had a new feller.” The 
interruption came from an awkward girl who 
had bolted into the room, her dress was torn 
and face very dirty. 

“You, Jinny! Go an’ wash up them hands 
an’ fix the table for supper. Why ain’t you 
come home before when you know I told you 
not to be late?” 

“Vallie an’ that feller walked so slow an’ I 
was waitin’ on ’em. Oh, Uncle Sam, we had 
the bulliest time an’ had our pictures took an’ 
I was eatin’ of a chicken leg an’ ” 

“Go, Jinny, not ’nuther word. Don’t you see 
we has company for supper?” 

“What’s your name?” She addressed Mrs. 
Randolph boldly, and continued before the lat- 
ter could reply: 

“She’s your gal, ain’t she? I knows it by her 
face but she’s a sight better lookin’ than him 

” pointing a grimy forefinger at Vallie’s 

companion. 

“Jinny!” Seenie gave her a look that made 
her hurry from the room. At the door she said 
in her loud voice : 

“He ain’t near so pretty ’s the other one. 

[18] 


UNCLE SAM 


An’ he stuck by Vallie the hull day an’ Belle 
didn’t like it.” 

“Jinny! Wash up them hands ’fore you touch 
the dishes. She is a pest but Sam will keep the 
child. Her ma’s dead an’ I can’t seem to do 
anythin’ with her. She’s sharp ’nough an’ 
knows everythin’ goin’ on till seems sometimes 
she’s more cunnin’ than jest ord’nary folks, like 
she’s seein’ right in your mind an’ it makes a 
budy creep.” 

“Vallie, I was jest talkin’ ’bout takin’ a trip 
to Texas where we c’n raise them Magnolia 
figs an’ make a heap.” Uncle Sam’s mind was 
overflowing with his plan. 

“Sam is alwus wantin’ to take some new 
idee,” remarked his wife bitterly, “an’ it keeps 
me all stirred up. You know there’s good 
chances right under our own hearth stun’.” She 
rose saying: 

“I’ll git supper on for no tellin’ what Jinny’s 
up to. Sam c’n talk to you for he’s alwus ready 
with his tongue.” 

Mrs. Randolph had become very much in- 
terested in the family group, especially had she 
been attracted to the laughing baby whose eyes 
were large and brown like clear mirrors. 

“I’ve jest been tryin’ to git the folks to go 
West for it’s the place to raise the boy an’ then, 
too, the travelin’ ’d bring him out a sight. I’m 
ed’catin’ him by special plan with cal’n’dars, 
[ 19 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


blocks, dom’noes an’ the globe. Don’t you 
think there’s a sight of sense in the idee that we 
c’n all be Websters if we git the right start? 
Do our folks ’fore us have to be very l’arned?” 
This was the point which puzzled Uncle Sam 
and he seized the opportunity to broach the 
subject with some one who was as interested as 
his guest in all he said. 

“I believe that you will have much success by 
following your practical methods. Sam’l 
watches me so intelligently as though he under- 
stood every word.” 

“He may do it, ma’am. I talk to him ’s if 
he did any way, an’ it’ll help to bring him ’long 
in time. I’m a tryin’ this suggestin’ power on 
Sam’l an’ I tell him that he’ll be a gran’ man 
some day. I don’t think it pays to tell a child 
he’s mean an’ goin’ to be meaner, but that he’s 
all right an’ it helps him git up ’stead of down. 
I’ve thought a heap ’long this line for I’ve al- 
wus been might’ly took to little shavers an’ I 
think it’s the most needful work in all the 
work. Sam’l ’ll have the chanct I missed. I’ve 
got the work all planned out years ahead an’ 
when he’s out of school me an’ him ’s goin’ 
to write up the great ’Merican book that I’m 
startin’ for him now.” Uncle Sam moved over 
to an old easel that stood in a far corner upon 
which was an immense book. Mrs. Randolph 
smiled as she asked: 

[20] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Is that your book, Mr. Saylor?” 

“Yep. I had an idee which I must put down 
too.” He sat down upon the high stool, and 
with serious mien he wrote slowly for some 
minutes, saying: 

“Adam slipped down on Eve’s apple peelin’ 
an’ so man fell; Eve’s done slipped up on Adam 
an’ stole forbidden fruit an’ man’s down ag’in. 
Adam swapped a lemon for the apple an’ wom- 
an’s soured on man. Eve’s tired of that lemon 
an’ wants to swap back for a plum an’ she’ll 
keep shakin’ of the tree till she gets it. War 
’s done been declar’d ’twixt Adam an’ Eve, an’ 
bein’ the keeper of the race Eve ’ll put up a 
mighty stiff fight for her own.” 

Uncle Sam broke forth into a rollicking song 
he had learned from the miners of Virginia, 
those stalwart mountaineers whose true senti- 
ments were expressed in their odd verse : 

“ Ole Georgia Back ’s dead an } the last word 
he said 

Was don’t never let your woman have her 
ways; 

If you let her have her ways you’ll he in trou- 
ble all your days , 

Don’t never let your woman have her ways.” 

“I has my ways,” broke in Seenie with spirit, 
coming to the door with the potato masher in 
[21] 


UNCLE SAM 


her hand. “I have all the rights I wants, an’ 
jest let any man say I can’t have more ’f I 
wants ’em.” 

“You don’t have your rights, Mrs. Saylor, so 
long as women are not allowed equal rights 
with men,” said Mrs. Randolph quietly. “You 
should want the great right, the right not to be 
dictated to by man. The yoke was placed on 
woman by man and she has worn it 
long enough. God intended that in all things 
of life woman should be man’s helpmate. He 
didn’t want her assistance and in consequence 
things are in chaotic condition. The man-made 
world has been a failure and now at last woman 
sees her duty and she never shirks. No matter 
what the struggle costs she takes the hard way 
and overcometh all obstacles. Man has taken 
the easy way, the way to please himself. He 
has made the man-laws; he has made the moral 
laws easy for man; he has made the social laws 
easy; he has made the commercial laws easy 
that he might prey upon others. He has made 
the marriage laws — a woman must obey and 
she is tired of it, and in consequence she re- 
volts. Divorce scandalizes modern life and 
what is the solution? Self-dependence of 
women! Suffrage is the lever upon which her 
future rests. Until she raises herself to man’s 
level she will never uplift the race. 

“The maternal instinct that broods over the 
[ 22 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


cradle reaches out to the great home of the 
world where the spirit of woman is called to 
help in the struggle of humanity. Man is 
needed in the home and woman is needed in 
the world. They cannot go separate ways but 
hand in hand for final victory.” 

“Yes, Mis’ Randolph, it’s a-comin’ to that 
time fast. We fellers have held the reins pretty 
tight but we’ve got to slacken ’em a bit I reckon 
’f we ’spect to keep peace in the family. An’ 
I ain’t sorry for my part. A man c’n do big 
stunts in the world that a woman can’t set her 
hand to, but it takes you women folks to look 
after the little things, an’ they’re most pertic’lar 
after all. Man don’t like them pesterin’ details 
that come nat’ral to a woman. They has for 
all time been dustin’ an’ cleanin’ up while man 
’s littered at home an’ abroad. Things ’s in a 
tangle an’ no mistake, an’ that’s why we has to 
call on the women to straighten it out. Man 
don’t hanker after the new way of doin’ for 
he hates might’ly to be disturbed. Women’s 
pesky critters alwus tearin’ up for cleanin’ day 
an’ putting your pipe out of sight an’ you 
can’t find your easy chair in its place. 
Wa’al, wa’al, I reckon we’ll have to put up with 
all the bother an’ fuss an’ turn you women 
loose to right things a bit. You never seem 
content ’thout your makin’ us men folks trouble 
an’ ’s we ain’t got no fightin’ sperit to talk of so 

[23] 


UNCLE SAM 


you c’n go ahead an’ have your way an’ say I 
reckon. I ain’t never seen a man yit that could 
match up to you women. My ’sperience ’s been 
that woman ’s man’s vexin’ sperit, mostly the 
bitter pill an’ not the better part. Seenie alwus 
gets her way an’ whatever you want you c’n 
have. Pants ’s power an’ no wonder women 
folks hanker after wearin’ em. 

“I reckon ’f the women run things little chil- 
dren would get a better showin’. Woman has 
more heart and conscience. ‘Flowers an’ gar- 
den sass is tended while little children grow up 
like weeds.’ 

“Onct I was in Chicago an’ I saw them takin’ 
a poor boy to jail an’ he kept a hollerin’ out: ‘I 
ain’t never had no chanct!’ I ain’t yet forgot 
that boy an’ guess he was right, — he’d never 
had a chanct to be a good boy. Every boy the 
jail gets ’s a lost chanct for the Church an’ 
every criminal hanged ’s a lost chanct for the 
Church to save a soul. Somehow when I see 
a bunch of fellers huddled up behind them iron 
bars I can’t seem to think it’s right. An’ I see 
growin’ up about me boys that are drinkin’ an’ 
stayin’ out nights an’ more cells ’ll be filled. We 
make them bad ’stead of good an’ then we pays 
the big price of ruined lives.” 

“When the women have their zvays, Mr. Say- 
lor, laws will make — not mar — humanity. I 
know the time is not far distant when women 

[24] 


UNCLE SAM 


will come into their own and be appreciated as 
man’s equal and superior, for she is the mother 
of the race.” 

“Yes, woman’s way is a good way an’ give 
them a chanct.” 

The young man enjoyed the quaint picture 
which his host presented and already he had 
detected the fount of humor, in the right eye, 
which lit up the strong visage with quizzical 
mirth. Here was a new type to study, and he, 
like his mother, keenly absorbed every word or 
move. 

“I am very much interested in your book, 
Mr. Saylor, but won’t it be in numerous vol- 
umes?” 

“Yes, I reckon it’ll be hefty, for I’ve collect- 
ed a sight of writin’ for ’t an’ I’m hopin’ Sam’l 
put it in good shape for I have a lot of idees he 
c’n git the good of ’s I ain’t had no l’arnin’.” 
A certain wistfulness tinged the words. “I c’n 
feel it all, Mis’ Randolph, but I ain’t got the 
words to tell it. But my book’s been a sight o’ 
pleasure for I’ve got fun an’ then I has a strong 
reason for writin’, aimin’ toward better thinkin’ 
an’ livin’ for mankind. It’ll be named ‘Uncle 
Sam’s Book,’ writ by Sam’l Saylor, Fust an' 
Second. I’m rushin’ his ed’cation so’s we c’n 
git it safe under kiver for then I’ll feel better in 
my mind. I’ve read a heap of it to the boy 
an’ we’ve talked over the parts I was doubtin’ 

[25] 


UNCLE SAM 


of but he seems to take more to story books 
now. Why, he’ll jest look at the pictures of 
Li’le Jody. It’s the gran’est book ever writ 
’ceptin’ the Bible. I’d ruther ’a’ writ it than 
any story I ever read an’ I’ve cried over that 
li’le boy many a time. Sam’l have had it an’ 
the cover’s ’bout off.” 

Mrs. Randolph looked at the well-thumbed 
book with a curious expression on her face. 
“I’ve read it, Mr. Saylor, and I am very glad 
that you enjoyed it for I know the author well, 
in fact I know her best of all.” She smiled and 
added: “It was my first book, and no doubt I 
felt about it as you do yours, so I understand.” 

“Wh — y, be you the writer of that book!” 
Uncle Sam grasped her hand, then went to the 
door calling excitedly : 

“Seenie, Seenie, Mis’ Randolph writ ‘Li’le 
Jody.’ She slipped away an’ read it an’ she was 
red-eyed, too.” Seenie now appeared and she 
said: 

“Now, I did like that book, an’ how nice you 
come to see us. You must stay over night for 
it won’t put us out a mite. I’m havin’ you eat 
in the kitchen jest like home-folks do. Sam’s 
alwus goin’ on over your book.” 

Stately Elsie was the element not in har- 
mony with the surroundings and Vallie, with 
her quick intuitive mind at once realized the dif- 
ference. Vallie always was affected favorably 
[26] 


UNCLE SAM 


or otherwise on the instant, and in this case 
there was a jarring note to her sensitive nature. 

Mrs. Randolph was, on the contrary, deeply 
impressed by Uncle Sam, whose rugged nature 
was vibrant with optimism and rare simplicity. 

The opportunity afforded by having this 
well-known author as his guest caused Uncle 
Sam to beam upon them, and his tongue was 
loosened to pour into a sympathetic heart his 
hopes and plans. Elsie seemed to disdain the 
familiar attitude assumed by her family. 

“I’ve got a heap to puzzle me, Mis’ Ran- 
dolph, an’ I want to ast you if it ’d be a good 
idee to send off a sample of the book to git it 
sized up? Then, too, I’ve been might’ly con- 
sarned as to who should git the ded’cation. To 
stop any fuss in the family I’ll write it this way : 

“ ‘To Lizbeth Abbie Saylor — ist wife of 
Author No. i. 

“ ‘To Seenie Rosy Saylor — 2nd wife of Au- 
thor No. i. 

“ ‘To Maria Jane Saylor — ist daughter of 
Author No. i. 

“ ‘To Vallie Saylor — 2nd daughter of Au- 
thor No. i.’ 

“Now, there can’t be no kickin’ an’ I guess 
Sam’l agree to it. I’ve been cal’latin’ how 
many copies we’ll sell for out’n ninety million 
folks there should be several million want the 

[27] 


UNCLE SAM 


book, an’ we aims to autograph each one ’s 
they’ll sell better.” 

‘‘Sam, your hen scratchin’ is wuth a heap, 
ain’t it?” 

“All the great men write scrawlin’, Seenie. 
Didn’t Greeley say the fool that wrote it could 
do the readin’ of it, an’ it was hisself? I’ve al- 
ready got the notices to be printed ’bout us an’ 
the book an’ I aim to git a likeness handy for 
the press’ll want me an’ Sam’l. I’ve been plan- 
nin’ the squeal but Seenie says better git the pig 
fust.” 

As they enjoyed the golden brown chicken 
and hot rolls, Mrs. Randolph remarked that 
they had been fortunate to be delayed and she 
believed she might write a “squeal” to “Li’le 
Jody” if she could remain at the farm for it was 
so delightful in the country. Her son seemed as 
enthusiastic over their accident as he conversed 
with Vallie in his pleasant manner. He had 
discovered a rare flower amid the wildness of 
nature and he had not yet classified it. Per- 
haps it was the expression of his eyes that 
caused his sister annoyance and her proud head 
rose more majestically above the rural maiden 
who looked with wonder upon the delicate 
beauty. 

Vallie’s experience of the day had brought 
forth new beauty in the expressive face with 
eyes of an exact shade to the rich, undulating 
[28] 


UNCLE SAM 


hair, and a matchless pink and white velvety 
skin. Her mind was still very busy with all she 
had heard to-day, the happy and unexpected 
meeting in the glen. Would she see him again? 

Young Randolph was not impressed by her 
unusual beauty as were his mother and sister, 
for he saw an interesting study of unveneered 
youth whose sensations and delights flashed 
forth unreservedly. Her world had been what 
nature had to offer and what health! What 
color! What life! 

“I’m glad your shootin’ wagon took a bad 
turn for you’ve helped me a sight ’bout my 
book, Mis’ Randolph, an’ with Sam’l’s ed’cation 
for the rest jest laugh at my crazy talk.” 

“It’s always the new ideas that are criticised, 
Mr. Saylor, but applause follows success. So 
don’t get discouraged. The nonentities are on 
the safe side, but who would wish to be one?” 

“Not me nor yit Sam’l for that boy’s head is 
plum full of bumps already. See jestice an’ 
there’s mercy an’ patri’tism is over the left ear, 
an’ Seenie, that reminds me I must git Sam’l a 
skel’ton for it’s the best way to study the 
bones.” 

“Hush, Sam. I’ll not hear to sich a thing 
— I’d not give it house room. What ’ll you 
think up next, I wonders?” 

“It’s nuthin’ ’ceptin’ folks so why make a fuss 
’bout it? I’ll ast Doc if he has one to spare an 7 

[29] 


UNCLE SAM 

then Sam’l be the ’leventh wonder — ten al- 
ready ” 

“No, commandments,” Vallie interrupted in 
her sweet voice, and Seenie laughed. 

Elsie would not enter into conversation with 
the others, only occasionally dropping a remark 
which made Vallie feel her inferiority. It was 
her first experience with another life and its 
products: cynicism and deceit; elegance and 
culture. It seemed to smite keenly upon the girl 
and hush the natural outflow of her spirits. Val- 
lie felt but did not understand fully, yet it rank- 
led. Randolph studied this lily and this rose, 
so different in their beauty, and he thought with 
unbiased judgment: “Oh, woman! So fair; so 
full of hidden stings and cunning arts !” 

“Was ‘Li’le Jody’ a real story, Mis’ Ran- 
dolph?” 

“Yes, he was a little hero of modern life who 
had to strive against the odds in a big city. I’m 
having him educated now, and he gives promise 
of better things.” 

“Oh, I’m glad of that, Mis’ Randolph! The 
pity is that there’s so many Li’le Jodys all need- 
in’ somebody to look after them. ‘Li’le Jody’ 
made me study a heap I tells you ’bout them 
boys ’thout any chanct. You did a fine job on 
that book and you’ve had your chanct, which 
I ain’t yit. I’m jest ignerant an’ knowin’ nuthin’ 
but you’re l’arned.” 


[30] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Knowledge is more than that learned in 
books. Your wisdom of life may reach far 
above that of great scholars, for narrow minds 
ofttimes hold much book lore. Education is a 
broad field; he who sows and reaps the crops 
has knowledge of one branch of science, and we 
writers have another. Who is the greater?” 

“I reckon his the one who does the best with 
his tools; who overcomes and strives for the 
top. That’s my aim — the top.” 

“That is best after all, Mr. Saylor.” 

“Folks grovel too much, Mis’ Randolph,” 
and he repeated the familiar lines in a deep 
voice : 

“ ‘See how we grovel here below 
Fond of these earthly toys ; 

Our souls — how heavily they go 
To reach immortal joys.’” 

“Sam ain’t grubbed much in his day if he’s 
grovelled.” 

“Seenie, there’s them that plan for higher 
things than to be the grub worms. ’Member 
’bout Marthy an’ Mary. I wasn’t ’tended to be 
no Marthy but I has good thoughts an’ they 
may live after me, for I may yit ile the worl’s 
wheels if I git my chanct. Sam’l ’ll help.” 

Reference to the baby caused a pain in Mrs. 
Randolph’s heart for had she not planned and 
[3i] 


UNCLE SAM 


hoped for her only boy who had taken life so 
lightly? She hoped that disappointment would 
not follow all these anticipations for the baby 
whose tiny head was covered with golden curls. 

They now repaired to the veranda where a 
good view of Halley’s comet might be seen 
and as they watched it Uncle Sam said: 

“Won’t that comet be s’prised when he calls 
’roun’ ag’in? He’ll scarce know this old worl’ 
for things ’ll change a sight ’fore he gits back 
to scare us up with his tail, which won’t match 
to the one we c’n tell. I only wishes that I’d 
be here. Then, Mis’ Randolph, there won’t be 
Li’le Jodys starvin’ an’ bein’ raised in the gut- 
ters, workin’ out their puny lives to give a dol- 
lar to them that has more than they need, swap- 
pin’ human lives for gold, stained with the 
blood of little children, their own childhood 
taken from ’em an’ them that does these things 
go an’ kneel in prayer an’ give back a dollar for 
a life they’ve stole. Then, Mis’ Randolph, it’ll 
be a gran’ Republic which will follow Christ in 
deed not word. That same comet ’ll see man- 
kind helpin’ not fightin’ brother ’g’inst brother, 
an’ there’ll be more peace to my notion for 
much that we’re all got our hearts sot on now ’ll 
pass away an’ we’ll not see in the dark no more. 
The light is breakin’, folks, it’s cornin’ ’s fast ’s 
the comet ’s goin’, so to speak. I’d like to be 

here, Mr. Comet, then ” 

[32] 


UNCLE SAM 


Mrs. Randolph would never forget his 
words nor the old man as he stood smiling 
heavenward, the faraway look in his eyes as 
though he saw that distant day. 

Vallie and her companion still remained 
when the others withdrew within for the mys- 
terious beauty of the shadowy land was very 
tempting. So were other things and he said 
presently: ‘‘Why is it that I feel I have known 
you — always?” He had been gazing at her up- 
turned face as the moonlight fell searchingly up- 
on it: “Ah ” 

The straight forehead, the perfect nose, the 
full, red lips, the chin of character and energy 
and the beautifully drawn eyes. All the artistic 
arose within him to admire deeply of this statue 
unveiled to tempt a man, and the enticing 
lips robbed him of self-control. Suddenly he 
had placed a kiss upon those lips where hovered 
a smile like day about to dawn. 

What a change had come across the mobile 
face as a look of scorn flashed forth while a 
voice said: 

“I did not know that you were one of the 
common herd ” 

He was electrified by the odd expression and 
the look that accompanied it, standing mute 
scarce knowing what to say or do, as greatly 
shocked as was she by his rash act, which he 
could not explain. But he was intensely inter- 
133 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


ested in this new woman that had taken the 
place of the coy farm maiden. How regal she 
looked as with head held proudly erect she 
continued in cold tones : 

“Mr. I really don’t even know your 

given name — Randolph, you thought that I was 

a little ignorant country girl her lips 

quivering under her aroused passion, “and — 
I liked you so much — how could you treat me 
so?” Her cold hauteur gave place to softer 
mood and tears sprang to the dark eyes. 

“I did not think of you as an ignorant girl, 
Vallie,” unconsciously the name slipped from 
his lips, “I know you better than you do your- 
self. The reason that I kissed you was because 
I liked you too much.” 

“You hold me in light regard.” She spoke 
sternly between her sobs for she was very ner- 
vous after the day’s excitement. “You just 
wanted to stay out here — to kiss me! You 
laugh at us. You think we are country and ig- 
norant. Your pretty sister looks at me as if 
I was common and she laughs at dear old fa- 
ther who knows a great deal if he is not educat- 
ed like yours.” 

He understood all the thoughts that throbbed 
within her breast, the contrasts of life preying 
upon her for solution. They did not realize it 
but it was an important moment in their lives 
and had the girl been different he might not 
[ 34 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


have been drawn unresistingly into the network 
of her charms. 

“My mother was a lady, Mr. Randolph; 
she’s been dead many years but I have not for- 
gotten her and I know what she would have 
me be. She would not have liked your kissing 
me.” There was such simplicity in the words as 
she looked at him with her childish eyes that it 
sank into his heart and he said softly, moved by 
awakened sentiment: 

“I know you better now. You’ll forgive me 
for we are going to be — friends.” There was 
entreaty in the voice. 

She offered up a smile and he was happy. 

“I’m coming back — you may look for me any 
time. Will you give me a welcome if I prom- 
ise to be very good?” 

“Of course I will be glad to see you. It is 
rather lonesome here though I have a good 
time. My father has been trying to get Seenie 
to take a trip West for a long time and you 
know that I am anxious to go. But she is de- 
termined that she will keep him here. I like to 
travel as well as he does.” 

“Some time you must come to New York and 
I will show you the sights. We can roam 
through the parks and watch the big liners put- 
ting out to sea.” 

“And go to the theatre?” 

“Yes, indeed. I see that will please you by 

[ 35 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


your face.” A very attractive plan came to his 
mind and as he talked to the lovely girl he 
thought of it in all its details. He intended to 
speak to his mother and see if she would help 
in its accomplishment. Oh, he would return — 
could he forego the pleasure of looking into 
those eyes again? If he had a great gift, it was 
that he could talk to the opposite sex. Here he 
was at his ease, a delight winning over a reluc- 
tant heart and his tactics seldom failed. Had 
she been one who was susceptible to his flattery 
he would not have given her another thought, 
but she appeared so very indifferent that his 
pride was piqued, and he was but urged to 
stronger efforts. 

“It is very dangerous to steal a kiss, but more 
so to return it.” He laughed as they parted 
for the night. 


[ 36 ] 


CHAPTER III. 


A MUSICAL PRODIGY. 

“Sam!” Whenever Seenie spoke the name 
in this way there was something very serious 
brewing. “I’m goin’ to send Jinny packin’ for 
I jest can’t put up with her triflin’ ways no 
longer.” 

“Now, Seenie,” laying a gentle hand upon 
her arm, “you listen to me. I’ve done give my 
word to her ma that I’d look after Jinny an’ 
do you want me to go ag’in my promise to the 
dead? She means well, Seenie, it’s jest girl 
ways, an’ she’ll yit come ’roun’ all right an’ be 
nice like Vallie when she’s older.” 

“That’s ’nough, Sam, I can’t hear no more 
for I’m worried to death ’s ’tis with her dirty 
and sloven ways. Told her to put a stew pan 
of water on the fire an’ didn’t she throw it on 
the coals an’ put the fire out? Ashes are clean 
over everythin’ an’ me rushin’ tryin’ to git 
ready for the sewin’ bee.” She was very angry 
and continued: “Tell me what’s she good for 
anyway? She ain’t wuth her keep.” 

“Them ugly ducks turn out all right, Seenie, 
with finest feathers.” 

“Huh, she won’t have no fine feathers an’ 

[ 37 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


nobody won’t be fool ’nough to marry her. If 
there was that chanct I’d keep up heart, an’ try 
to hammer things into her silly head but that 
high-soundin’ laugh makes her a laughin’ stock 
to everybody an’ her dirty looks.” 

“Folks like the girl for she’s good at heart 
an’ we’d miss her ’bout the place, for you 
wouldn’t have her to fuss at.” Seenie shook 
her head emphatically. 

“Sam, if you want to keep the girl, then I’ll 
have to go myself for I can’t put up with her 
no longer. She won’t wash the veg’tables an’ 
will peel potatoes in the wash pan an’ she 
mixes the bread in it, too.” 

“Wa’al, I know she don’t seem to take to 
cookin’ nor cleanin’, but mayhap there’s sun- 
thin’ else she c’n do if we tries her hard ’nough. 
I’ll speak with her.” 

“Heap o’ good ’twill do, Sam.” 

He found her in the shed kitchen dressing 
chickens for dinner. He sat down on the wood 
box and began whittling as he said in a kind 
voice: “Jinny, you don’t ’member your ma, do 
you? Wa’al, I told her when she died that I’d 
look after her little girl, but Seenie don’t like 
your ways. You ain’t clever as you could be, 
child, an’ she says she’s goin’ to send you away 
if you can’t do better. Then I’ll have to break 
my promise made to your dead ma. Are you 
goin’ to make me break that promise, Jinny, 
[ 38 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


when you can please Seenie by tryin’ harder an’ 
doin’ what she says?” Tears came to her eyes 
as he looked gravely at her. 

“I don’t want to leave you, Uncle Sam, I 
don’t, for you’re alwus good to me, but Seenie 
ain’t an’ I don’t like to work — I’d ruther play 
the piany.” 

“The piany I” He was shocked by this frank 
confession. 

“Yes, the piany! I steal in an’ play when 
nobody’s ’bout an’ I don’t care if ’tis wicked, 
I jest don’t. I c’n play better than Vallie an’ 
the next chanct I git I’ll show you, Uncle Sam.” 
The happy light in her face made him marvel 
at her words. 

“Jinny, you ain’t fakin’ Uncle Sam? Guess 
you think drummin’ is playin’, don’t you? There 
was eagerness as well as doubt in his tone. 

“Crost my heart an’ fingers, Uncle Sam, I c’n 
play sure ’nough an’ Mis’ Tucker was hearin’ 
t’other day an’ never guessed ’twas me at the 
piany. Bob Bassett knows I play an’ he’s glad 
of’t. Please let me go an’ play now for you?” 

“But Seenie?” 

“I saw her go to the garden so ’s we c’n 
slip in an’ she won’t know.” Away crept these 
two truants both feeling very guilty but excited 
in their duplicity. 

They entered the darkened room with the 
awe and respect it deserved, walking upon the 
[ 39 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


precious Turkey carpet with its rose sprays as 
reverently as one would cross a chancel portal. 
Eighteen years had this carpet been upon the 
floor and not a day older did it look than the 
time it was first laid, so carefully had it been 
preserved. Straw air castles were hung from 
the low beamed ceiling, while the mantel deco- 
rations were impossible bouquets fashioned 
from crewel, feathers and wax, treasured for 
years beneath glass shades. Memory frames 
of button strings and vari-colored garden seeds 
adorned the walls. A colored print represent- 
ing Andy’s monument overhung by weeping 
willows gave a sombre air which was in con- 
trast to the smiling picture of Uncle Sam in its 
heavy black and gold frame. There were 
flower wreaths woven from the hair of de- 
ceased members of the family. Andy’s mother, 
an aristocratic old dame, was portrayed in bits 
of quilted satin. Beaded divans stood against 
the walls and spindle-legged pieces of mahog- 
any inlaid with delicate flowers shone in the 
sunlight. Seenie prized these heirlooms which 
had belonged to Andy’s family. 

Jenny had even small reverence for the front 
room and now she had sighted the piano she be- 
came unmindful of dirty fingers that lovingly 
caressed the white keys. But, hark! Uncle 
Sam listened breathlessly. Little dirty Jenny 
was playing! He stood transfixed with the 
[40] 


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'"‘‘Unde Sam" Page 41 


UNCLE SAM 


wonder of it all and this picture deserved a 
gold frame. It was as though a miracle had 
happened in the old farmhouse. 

The youthful pianist sat with a joyful ex- 
pression on her grimy face, smeared with mo- 
lasses, while some stray chicken feathers dotted 
her fluffy hair. Her fingers were stiff but she 
hit the notes truly, and Uncle Sam’s eyes filled 
with tears as he listened to his favorite song: 

“Flow gently, sweet Afton.” 

“Oh, little girl, that is sure gran’ ! Now, give 
another of the good old tunes. Try ‘Then 
You’ll Remember Me.’ ” 

In a tender strain she poured forth her lit- 
tle soul as a bird into freedom. 

“Now, Jinny, that’s so sad like, s’pose you 
give us a dance tune an’ I’ll step it off.” She 
began rattling off a lively air, forgetting to be 
cautious in her delight. While her fingers flew, 
her mouth worked spasmodically and one ill- 
shod foot played both pedals carelessly. Uncle 
Sam was capering nimbly to right and left, 
clapping his hands gleefully, when behold! 

This was the scene that greeted the eyes of 
Seenie, who stood in the doorway, beets in one 
hand and a fowl in the other. 

“Jinny Packer!” she fairly screamed the 
name. “Jinny!” The child turned and looked 
[4i] 


UNCLE SAM 


at her in confusion but her fingers still moved 
restlessly as though impatient of delay, and she 
looked wistfully at the intruder, then fearlessly. 

“How dare you touch that piany?” Seenie 
advanced a step, then retreated, “How dare 
you, you dirty little hussy! Come with them 
hands here ! Sam Saylor, those boots ! And 
you’d let her!’’ Uncle Sam was not afraid for 
he was elated over her accomplishment. 

“Seenie, jest think of her knowin’ how to 
play this way an’ never been l’arned. It’s past 
believin’ most, it is! Now go an’ put up your 
things an’ listen to her music.” 

“Both of you come out at once !” Seenie mo- 
tioned but for the first time neither obeyed, 
and moving over the carpet she snatched at the 
girl angrily but her husband said quietly: 

“Now, Seenie, leave her be.” 

“Sam, playin’ this new piany with them 
hands, never!” 

“Jinny, run wash up an’ then Seenie ’ll let 
you play for her.” 

“No, Sam, she’ll jest be more triflin’. If 
here ain’t a chicken feather on this carpet. I 
don’t think she c’n play anythin’ fit.” 

“Shucks ! I only wisht I’d knowed last night 
she c’d play so fine I’d have had Mis’ Randolph 
hear her.” 

“Sam, you’re goin’ to ruint this child, givin’ 
[ 42 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


over the best room in the house to her an’ the 
piany as well.” 

“I’ve a bright idee, Seenie. You listen to 
what I’ve studied out. Jinny ’ll do mos’ any- 
thin’ to git to play, so when she’s nice an’ does 
up her work well you c’n let her use the piany, 
won’t you?” 

Jenny came running into the room with a 
shining face like a full moon, and she played 
one piece after another to Seenie’s amazement. 
Vallie had joined the group in the sunny room 
and was delighted. She began to gracefully 
dance to the lively strains and her father joined 
her in one of their own figures, a combination 
of the old-time and the new steps. It was very 
pretty and Seenie smiled as she looked on for 
she was very proud of having a musician in the 
house. Dirty Jenny began to assume a new 
role in the household, and many of her slovenly 
ways were overlooked, for Seenie now re- 
garded her as more than a little drudge. 

Uncle Sam’s trip to the big West was for- 
gotten, much to Seenie’s joy, and when he be- 
came restless she sent for Jenny to play for him, 
or talked about Sam’l’s education to divert his 
mind from roaming. 

****** 

“Vallie, are you fixed for town?” Uncle 
Sam held the white mare for it was ready to 
[ 43 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


be off. His daughter appeared the next mo- 
ment in a cool linen suit which Seenie admon- 
ished her for wearing: 

“The dus’ ’ll ruint it. I reckon you’re ex- 
pectin’ to meet that new feller. Well, I’m not 
thinkin’ much of strangers that don’t have 
more to do than eye pretty girls.” 

“He’s very nice, Seenie, and said he intended 
to call. He’s much handsomer than Mr. Ran- 
dolph as Jenny said.” This was the first time 
she had mentioned his name since he left. They 
drew up before the general merchandise store 
of Reuben William Simpkins, and he hastened 
out to see what he might do for them. 

“I’ll come in, Rube, ’s I have a deal o’ buy- 
in’ to-day.” Reuben gallantly assisted them to 
alight while he smiled at Vallie. 

“You’re lookin’ like a rose to-day, havin’ 
a good time as usual, I s’pose?” 

“Yes, indeed.” She always seemed to be 
happy and everybody loved Sam Saylor’s girl 
for her smile was radiant. 

“I wants to git dresses for Jinny. She grows 
a sight an’ a red caliker an’ a blue an’ a tan 
piece with dots ’ll do. Now, sence she’s playin’ 
for company the child has to be clean. Rube, 
it’s a sight in the worl’ how that girl c’n play 
the piany. You must come over to hear her. 
Yes, give me the hull strip of the red an’ 
[ 44 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


Sam’l c’n have aprons from the dress leavin’s. 
I’ll put Vallie to sewin’ these up, for a girl 
needs work to keep from moonin’ too much.” 
Her look seemed to say, “did you know Val- 
lie had a new beau?” When they had given all 
the news they left and called next at the post- 
office. 

Seenie remarked that she didn’t know who’d 
write but they might ’s well go. Vallie was very 
willing and they stopped before the little dark 
building that set crosswise of the village 
square, cantawompas as Uncle Sam said in siz- 
ing it up. 

“Miss Saylor, here’s a letter for you.” Then 
good-natured Jim Brown continued: “If it’s 
sweet readin’ as ’tis smellin’, it’ll be most as 
sweet as you, Miss Vallie. I don’t like these 
letters a bit cornin’ from New York. What 
’bout it?” Vallie blushed and he laughed. Jim 
was one of her sweethearts, and who was not 
in Brighton? “Here’s one for Mrs. Saylor an’ 
it’s from New York, too.” 

Vallie thanked him and hastened out, con- 
cealing her letter. 

“A letter for me!” After reading the first 
lines Seenie became so excited that she failed 
to note the bright color in the girl’s face and 
the sparkle of her eyes. “To think of this 
cornin’ to pass! Read it yourself.” Vallie 
[ 45 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


took the delicately penned sheet, very precise 
in its old style chirography: 

“My dear Sister: 

“You will doubtless be surprised to hear from me 
after the years of silence. I write to inform you that 
my daughter, Teresa, expects to visit you. She does not 
enjoy good health, and I hope she will be benefited by 
country air and diet. I am going to ask you to give 
the latter your especial care, which I know is possible, 
as your farm affords excellent produce, which you know 
how to prepare. 

“I would be pleased to have had her sister, Lavinia, 
accompany her, but I cannot spare both the girls now. 
She expects to arrive Tuesday if it doesn’t rain. Kindly 
meet her at the train. 

“With great affection, 

“Your fond sister, 

“Lydia A. Parish. 

“New York.” 

“What a queer letter!” Vallie laughed out- 
right. 

“I don’t see where the fun comes in; but let’s 
be glad that Lavinia didn’t want to come ’long. 
Teresa’s ’bout my age an’ I s’posed she’d been 
married ’fore this. Might jest ’s well been 
struck by lightning. What ’ll we do with 
her?” Vallie was thinking of the precious let- 
ter unopened. Yet she knew that she should 
be angry at the writer. Her cheeks burned 
when she thought of him and that moonlight 
night on the veranda. Hastening to her room 
she broke the seal with trembling fingers : 

“I cannot help sending a message to know if the shadow 
of your displeasure still rests over me? I sincerely hope 

[46] 


UNCLE SAM 

that I have been wholly forgiven and that before very long 
I may hear you tell me from those lips — well — you know 
what I would add did I dare? Have I forgotten? Not 
anything— but perhaps you remember too well, and will 
not care to see me when I put in an appearance at Clef- 
falls Farm. 

“Au revoir, 

“Richard Randolph.” 

Vallie blushed deeply as she read this odd 
letter and her first thought was to carefully 
secrete it from the eyes of others. He was 
coming! What a thrill possessed her as she 
clasped the missive to her heart for a moment. 
It was not deep interest that prompted this 
ecstacy, but the outgrowth of a new sensation 
of which she would make the most. He still 
remembered her and was coming to see her. 
The sunshine danced before her eyes as she ran 
gaily into the kitchen. 

“My little girl is mighty happy.” Her fa- 
ther patted her rosy cheek affectionately. 
“Must be ’cause Teresa’s cornin’.” 

“I think she’ll be lots of fun. We’ll go over 
to-morrow and if it hasn’t rained in New York 
we may see her.” 

“I swan! That’s a queer way to let folks 
know nuthin’.” 

“Papa, you’ll have to be chaperone to see 
that Rube doesn’t try to kiss Teresa.” 

“Vallie, I’m s’prised. What you know ’bout 
sich doin’s?” 

His mischievous daughter laughed gaily. 

[ 47 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Teresa must be very attractive and Rube ad- 
mires beauty.” 

“In younger women, I know; but when it 
comes to over the forty line I has my doubts.” 

“Rube isn’t young himself.” 

“Wa’al, wa’al, we’ll have to make the best 
of this bad bargain, anyway, we owe the 
Parishes sunthin’.” 

“Sam, I’d like to know what? I never had 
nuthin’ from ’em ’ceptin’ visits ’s I knows of.” 

“Seenie, you forgit ’bout that ridge strip 
that I prize so might’ly, an’ if I hadn’t got it 
from Lydia when she was needin’ o’ money 
bad, I’d never have the luck to own it for I bet 
a pretty now she wouldn’t sell it for no sich 
low figur’. Jest bought it then to help her out 
an’ we never reckoned on what it’d be wuth in 
time.” 

“Land! How crazy you do gabble ’bout 
that useless bit of rocks an’ water. You must 
have sunthin’ to set your head up in the sky, 
an’ I wish you good luck for your no-’count 
trade. Lydia got the best of you as they alwus 
do.” 

“Wisht somebody right perky ’d come for 
I do love jolly folks like Mis’ Randolph.” 

“Papa, I wish some one right perky would 
come, too.” 

“Vallie, quit your nonsense an’ day dreamin’ 
for the impossible an’ set your han’ to helpin’ 
[ 48 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


with the housework. What with fixin’ them 
things for Teresa I’ve got more’n I c’n do an’ 
Lydia ’s done put the command on me. Sam, 
where’s good-for-nuthin’ Jinny? Up to some 
meanness when she should be ’tendin’ to the 
fire for me.” At that particular moment 
Jenny was perusing or attempting to do so, the 
letter Vallie had carefully hidden away beneath 
her pillow. 

“My!” she exclaimed delightedly, “what a 
fine smellin’ letter it is, I’d like to know what 
kind he uses an’ what’s Vallie been up to I 
wonders? I reckon if Seenie knew ’bout this 
she’d kick high. I’ll slip into the front room 
an’ have a little tune on the piany.” 

“Oh, here you are, Jinny ! If you don’t close 
that piany an’ shut the door to keep out’n the 
dust I won’t make up your caliker dresses.” 
She obeyed at once and meeting Vallie in the 
hall she asked slyly: “Git any letters? Jest 
wanted to know.” Vallie looked at her and 
then ran to her room. The letter was safe 
but from Jenny’s tell-tale expression Vallie sus- 
pected she had already read it. “That little 
pest — well, he’s coming — so what matter?” 

Vallie and her father drove over to the sta- 
tion several miles distant, but there was no 
Teresa. 

“One thing sartin, Vallie, it’s rainin’ in Noo 
York but the sun ’s shinin’ here. Back they 

[ 49 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


returned to the farm, and the nice supper 
Seenie had prepared was enjoyed by the fam- 

iiy. 

“Drat sich folks!” Seenie was much annoyed 
and the others got the benefit of it as usual. 
The following afternoon the experiment was 
repeated but again were they doomed to disap- 
pointment and again did Uncle Sam say in his 
serious manner: “One thing sartin, it’s rainin’ 
in Noo York but the sun’s shinin’ here. If it’s 
Noo York’s rainy season, we’ll better stay to 
home I reckon. I’m ’fraid to go an’ break the 
news to Seenie, for she’ll be on a hot-shot time 
I betche.” In silence they partook of the ap- 
petizing supper, for Seenie would not allow a 
word to be spoken. 

The next day was Thursday — again he 
hitched up to be in time for the 4:40 train. 
Vallie did not accompany him on this occasion 
as she did not expect their guest. Very 
thoughtfully Uncle Sam came driving home- 
ward, and made the announcement that it must 
be rainin’ in Noo York — Teresa had not come. 


[So] 


CHAPTER IV. 


FAIR, FAT AND FORTY. 

Friday afternoon it was discovered that the 
mare was lame and a discussion arose as to 
what should be done about Teresa. It chanced 
that Mr. Simpkins had come over to see Uncle 
Sam on a business matter and he offered to 
drive over for the young lady. They had 
small idea that he would find her, but they 
wisely kept this to themselves feeling that it 
was necessary to go in either event. Reuben 
looked forward to the coming pleasure in store 
for there were very few young ladies in Bright- 
on and a new visitor offered possibilities to a 
bachelor who wanted to marry. Reuben had 
had many love affairs but for some reason 
they always ended disastrously. Some said that 
he was a heartless flirt and would never make 
up his mind, but he could never believe this 
about himself. He was always talking about 
the joys of wedded life and sighing for that 
time to come when he would have his own 
roof tree. Uncle Sam had on more than one 
occasion tried to steer his bark into matrimo- 
nial waters but had failed. Reuben had been 
the beau of the town for years and he seemed 
[5i] 


UNCLE SAM 


not a day older than when he had courted 
Seenie, and now he as gallantly gave his smiles 
to her stepdaughter. He bid fair to love past, 
present and future generations of fair woman- 
hood, and in the waning years his ardor but 
increased. 

He was somewhat chagrined to see descend 
from the rear coach a very portly individual; 
but he hastened forward and politely asked if 
she was Miss Parish from New York, explain- 
ing that it was impossible for her relatives to 
meet her. 

She was greatly disturbed, and looking up 
childishly into his rubicund countenance, she 
asked plaintively: “Pardon me, but are you a 
married man?” He was rather surprised and 
also embarrassed by the question, but he man- 
aged to stammer that he was not. 

“Dear, dear, what shall I do!” The tone 
was very tragic, and he was the more mysti- 
fied. 

“Mother would never consent to my driving 
with you alone.” 

“Oh, that’s all right.” He insisted and ex- 
plained, suggesting that it would soon be dusk 
if they delayed longer. 

“It’s been rainin’ in New York, signs point- 
ed that way.” 

“Yes, such disagreeable weather. I have 
never known it to rain so much as this season. 

[ 52 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


Dear, dear, how could Uncle Sam neglect me 
so, giving me into the care of a stranger.” 

Reuben was glad when they were cantering 
along at a lively pace, and he was agreeably 
entertained with the conversation of a sixteen- 
year-old, and it was not affectation in the least. 
But he liked girls in their teens the best of all. 

“I felt very lonely on the train. It was my 
first trip without my sister. I would not have 
left dear mother had not my health required 
a change. I have lost flesh in the last year and 
mother was worried.” 

“The farm is a good place to fatten up 
folks,” he volunteered, smiling. 

“Mother said I must derive all the benefits 
possible and not be up late at night.” She 
looked at him as she spoke. 

“There ain’t much to keep one up in the 
country.” The horse now began to go very 
fast indeed and the road being rough in places 
Teresa became more and more nervous until 
she almost threw herself in Reuben’s arms. 

“Oh, I’ll be killed, oh, dear Mr. Simpkins, 
do not let me die! I do not care for myself 
but it will be such a blow to poor, dear mother 
— she would never recover such a sad shock! I 
am ready to — die — oh — oh!” The more she 
cried out the faster went the animal, thor- 
oughly excited, and between the two Reuben 
had much ado to keep his head. Teresa was 
[ 53 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


unaware that she had clasped him wildly about 
the neck which hindered his managing the 
frisky Dixon that sped like wind down the 
pike. Reuben being a very practical man of 
forty-five, this unusual situation caused him to 
be even more unnerved than either Teresa or 
the plunging animal. 

“Save me! Save me!” The horse gave an- 
other vicious kick and she wept hysterically. 

“Dixon, quit your meanness. Don’t worry, 
he’s all right, just a bit frisky — feelin’ his oats 
to-day is all. Do be calm.” Reuben’s tone was 
very soothing as though he were speaking to 
an infant, but the next moment he was shocked 
to hear plaintively: 

“Oh! what would mother and sister say if 
they knew a strange gentleman had offered me 
words of comfort. It’s almost dark and I am 
alone. Mother has always guarded Lavinia 
and I so carefully.” Despite the peculiar style 
of woman Teresa appeared to be, she was very 
interesting to her companion and he still re- 
membered the sensation of her soft arms about 
his neck. When Uncle Sam assisted her to 
alight she said in broken tones: “I’ll write to 
mother at once of this dreadful experience.” 

“Wh — y, what happened, Teresa?” Uncle 
Sam viewed her with speculative eye. 

“To leave me with a stranger — who isn’t a 
married man !” 


[ 54 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Rube’s all right, Teresa, he’s safe an’ would 
not hurt a kitten.” 

“But suppose some one should have seen us 
alone !” 

“Weather fine in Noo York?” asked Seenie, 
as she kissed her niece. 

“Oh, such a terrible time we had — I cannot 
get over it — see how I’m trembling — I’m not 
well — and should not have come alone.” She 
seated herself at the table. “Chicken? Yes, a 
morsel, please. I eat very little but I must try 
to keep up my strength. The doctor says I 
must be very careful of what I eat.” 

“ ’Fraid of puttin’ on more flesh?” 

“Oh, Seenie, I’ve lost in weight, but I hope 
your simple diet will improve my general 
health. Wh — y, I did not know that we were 
dining in the kitchen, for I was so tired and 
vexed by that dreadful experience with Mr. 
Simpkins, though he acted very gallant I will 
say — perhaps a trifle familiar — but he is a gen- 
tleman.” After a silence she continued as she 
minced her salad daintily: 

“Vallie will not have the proper ideas if you 
dine here — and a cracked cup — dear me — she 
will not know how nice people live.” 

“They’ll be worse cracked if Jinny has the 
handlin’ of them.” She noticed the girl for the 
first time. Jinny had quietly watched the new 
arrival, making funny faces behind her back. 
[ 55 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“I shall retire early for I am so weary.” 

“I’m sorry you can’t see my friends to-night. 
Mr. Simpkins and Mr. Yeager will be here.” 

“Oh, I could never think of meeting Mr. 
Simpkins again!” She covered her face in 
confusion. “Who is Mr. Yeager?” 

“A young lawyer whom I met at a recent 
picnic.” 

“I think I had better do your hair, Vallie, 
for it could be improved upon. Don’t you like 
my coiffure? Mother says I have beautiful 
hair; it is much longer and finer than sister’s. 
It has always been much admired.” 

“P’raps Rube will take to it,” remarked 
Seenie kindly. 

“Do you think that I would want him to ad- 
mire my hair? You do not think that I am an 
ordinary kind of woman who would wish the 
admiration of the opposite sex — the gentle- 
men?” Amazement was in her voice. 

“Not the ordinary style by a long jump. 
Very much t’other way. The ordinary man 
would never think of marryin’ you or likin’ you 
I knows.” 

“Of course not. They realize that Lavinia 
and I are different and unless we had married 
a title we would not have cared to marry. But 
mother wouldn’t want us to live abroad, and we 
would not want to live in New York/’ 

“Nope, Jukes live hard in Noo York. Who 

[ 56 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


knows but I might ’a’ been a furrien juke or 
king mayhap for at times I c’n see ’m bowin’ 
an’ scrapin’ ’bout ’n their swell dikees an’ you 
knows I might ’a’ been over there an’ saw sich 
doin’s. How’d we know but I have? An’, 
too, I seem to see the pasteboard side of them 
crowns mostly. One of them kings gits into his 
pants same ’s I do.” 

“No, he don’t do no sich thing, Sam. He 
have men to dress him up fine ’s a feather. I 
alwus felt sorry for them ’cause it must be 
pesky havin’ some one fidgetin’ ’bout you, shuf- 
flin’ you into your duds like you was a dummy 
or baby. They look at you cross ’s the dickens 
if you don’t suit ’em. Those poor kings must 
want a little freedom, I reckon.” 

“King jobs don’t go beggin’ but the time ’ll 
come when there won’t be no jobs for ’em. 
What ’ll poor girls do when they ain’t no more 
titles? Vallie, want to crost over an’ git a 
mac’roony juke?” 

“I prefer an American duke, for they are 
best of all.” 

“She’s her pa’s own girl.” Her speech had 
pleased him. 

“You best be content to home for they’re 
ain’t no pile o’ gold to bait with. Money ’s a 
vexsation to the spirit an’ likewise the want o’ 
it. I’d like to roll an’ tumble in the yaller stuff 
for a spell to see how ’t d’ feel. Alwus wanted 
[ 57 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


to be a cap’list — the older I gits the poorer I 
gits. I’ll never leave no money to squabble 
over, an’ ’f I ain’t pilin’ up in the next worl’ 
I ain’t pilin’ nowheres I reckon.” 

“How can you allude to royalty in such a 
disrespectful manner?” asked Teresa who had 
listened silently to the passing remarks. “Moth- 
er always taught us to have profound rever- 
ence for titles. She says that title is more than 
anything — even wealth. Celebrities have been 
known to say they would give a thousand for- 
tunes for a crown.” 

“Wh — y, Teresa, it’s a pity now you ain’t 
rubbin’ noses with them furrien folks that ’d 
laugh at your country ’Merican ways while 
they took the coin from your hand. How c’n 
they have respect for us when we ain’t got it 
for ourselves? Forgittin’ our own God-given 
kentry to take up with theirs; forgit the lan’ 
that give ’em birth an’ a good livin’ to caper 
’roun’ to their whistlin’. ’Meriky ’s the lan’ 
for Uncle Sam, but I’ll go over some of these 
days jest to be glad to git back home ag’in. 

“Folks, the time ’ll come when we’ll have 
gran’ titles, not by divine rights nor by h’red’ty 
wrangles but by bein’ of use to mankind. That 
'll be a sure ’nough nobil’ty that jest them’s ’s 
have the right o’ goodness an’ mercy an’ jestice 
c’n be crowned under. Folks won’t mourn for 
rulers that have lived good-for-nuthin’ squan- 
[ 58 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


derin’ lives, but they’ll praise them’s ’s walk 
in the light o’ God an’ try to do His will. All 
this pomp an’ brass band parade ’ll be over 
with. What’ll girls then do, Teresa, that cry 
for gilt paper crowns?” 

‘‘Kings are always grand, Uncle Sam. I 
never heard any one talk against them before 
and what would mother say? Our family takes 
such pride in the various dynasties, but I don’t 
think they should bob their horses’ tails. They 
don’t look nice. I was so distressed when the 
Duchess Ragamount left her husband for I 
took such pride in that marriage. She had 
wonderful jewels but they say she prized her 
children more.” 

“Wa’al, wa’al, um — m! Ain’t Teresa good 
’s a circus. Who’d think she’d lived in a big 
city?” 

“Lydia’s put them idees into her head ’bout 
bein’ so fine years gone an’ she still thinks she’s 
sweet sixteen; an’ wouldn’t take nuthin’ but a 
title an’ even Rube wouldn’t have her with her 
silly talk for Jinny knows more.” 

Vallie was being initiated into the mysteries 
of Miss Teresa’s toilet made with the same 
elaborate care as though she were going to a 
social function of importance. 

“Vallie, you may pin this flower over the 
right ear and the artificial rose over the left. 
Mother likes this arrangement best. Lavinia 
[ 59 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


doesn’t wear flowers but her face is very plain 
and they do not become her, while I need 
blossoms and ribbons.” She shook out the am- 
ple folds of a pink grenadine as she spoke, 
which looked as though it had been re- 
peatedly worked over from “pa’s old pants.” 

Vallie had to take refuge in the kitchen to 
vent her rising mirth. “I think Teresa is the 
funniest mortal I have ever known. I had no 
idea there could be such a person out of a 
book.” 

“But she’s the real flesh and blood for she 
stepped on my pet corn when I hefted her out 
of the buggy. My — what a delicate woman she 
be, but didn’t she put by some supper, Seenie?” 

“She won’t starve herself if the chicken an’ 
cream holds out. What ’d Rube think of her, 
Sam?” 

“He seemed took to her. You know Rube’s 
the kind to take to baby women but none of 
them for your uncle. He wanted to come over 
bad ’nough.” 

“You forgit there’s ’nuther girl here.” 

“Seenie, do you think I’d marry that fat, 
red-faced Reuben Simpkins?” Then mocking 
Teresa she said haughtily: “I hope you do not 
think that I am an ordinary type of woman; 
you don’t judge me by others, do you ?” 

“Wa’al, then Teresa c’n have Rube,” replied 
her father much amused, for his daughter was a 
L6o] 


UNCLE SAM 


great mimic. “Who shall we give the rose in 
the garden up to?” 

“I’ll let you guess,” and she ran off laughing. 

“She’s thinkin’ ’bout that Randolph boy, an’ 
the letter must ’a’ been from him.” 

“Jin said ’twas from Noo York. She’s a 
sly little trick to hide it, an’ she never so much 
as says his name.” 

“Bad sign. No feller need to come triflin’ 
with her heart. We’re dif’rent from them an’ 
he might not want to marry her in the end. 
I’ve seen sich things happen afore, an’ I’ll set- 
tle with any feller that don’t act on the squar’ 
with Vallie or Jinny. Folks like them are 
mighty per’ticler an’ would Mis’ Randolph 
think my Vallie good ’nough for her boy?” 

“No, Sam, she wouldn’t. She’d be struck 
dumb to hear of sich a thing.” 

“Then I wants no more letters cornin’ for 
some one’ll git burnt. They could never be 
’shamed of my girl. She stands her own pretty 
darned well — she do — an’ I’m mighty proud o’ 
her.” 

“But them folks are likin’ to hunt up their 
ped’grees, an’ what’s Vallie’s gran’dad did to 
be proud of?” 

“He ain’t done nuthin’ to be ’shamed of, an’ 
that’s good nuff rec’mend. I don’t ast what’s 
a feller’s gran’dad was — I c’n tell by him if he 
was a gent or not. I don’t b’lieve in leanin’ on 
[61] 


UNCLE SAM 


what some other feller ’s done. What right 
have we to borrow his glory an* power? We 
shouldn’t have none if we don’t make our own 
— let everybody stan’ on their own feet. 

“Vallie’s gran’dad fought for his kentry, an’ 
give us freedom from furrien tyr’nies ; I helped 
to free the black man — we’ve mixed hon’sty 
with patri’tism all our days — an’ that’s Vallie’s 
ped’gree.” 


[62] 


CHAPTER V. 


A CHALLENGE. 

“Vallie, I don’t know whether I should go 
and speak to Mr. Simpkins for I feel so em- 
barrassed when I think that he saw me ascend 
into that very high chaise.” 

“He’ll be disappointed if you don’t see him, 
Teresa, and I wouldn’t mind about a little 
thing like that.” 

“Ah, dear, always remember that you can- 
not be too modest when in the presence of the 
gentlemen. Mother has ever impressed this 
upon our youthful minds. Let me rest awhile 
in quiet and presently I will join you.” 

Vallie presented a study in rich coloring as 
she sat in the glow of the lamplight, and to 
Roscoe Yeager she appeared even more at- 
tractive than beneath the great oaks by the 
waterfall. Their romantic meeting still held 
its charm, and each had speculated as to how 
the other would seem. They were mutually 
pleased, and since court was in session in the 
County seat of Brighton, Yeager would find it 
convenient to ripen their friendship. 

“I think the pictures are very good,” 

“Yes, indeed. Isn’t the gorge a lovely spot 

[63] 


UNCLE SAM 


and the waterfall shows up magnificently, while 
the merry picnic party makes an interesting 
foreground. The lights and shadows are fine 
and how pretty in the sepia. Father will 
prize this very much for it is such a fine 
view of the falls. He thinks a great deal 
of his Cleffalls and was remarking the other 
day that he expected to yet make a fortune 
from it for a power site. Now, isn’t Lone Pine 
good?” 

“I like it the best,” he said, “you are posed 
very artistically.” 

“It flatters me.” 

“No, indeed. There is no picture that could 
do you justice for you cannot reproduce exactly 
your features and coloring, nor can one portray 
that smile hovering near the threshold of the 
lips which one cannot forget. If I were a 
great artist I would paint you — and I 
would win fame.” She looked at his serious 
face in perplexed surprise. 

“You should not attempt to disparage me, 
Mr. Yeager. I don’t like to have my picture 
taken for I never admired myself sufficiently. 
My nose doesn’t suit me — it is too long — and 
how I wish I had golden hair and heavenly 
eyes of blue as heroines invariably possess.” 

“Your nose is perfect, so you have very poor 
taste. It is that which belongs to the aristo- 
crat, having outline, proportion and balance, 
[ 64 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


almost but not quite the straight Grecian nose 
of the idealistic type, yet slightly Roman, and 
I find French characteristics also.” 

“My ancestors were of French, Dutch and 
English extraction; thus in my veins flows the 
blood of different nationalities, from forefa- 
thers who settled on American soil the middle 
of the seventeenth century.” 

“The fusion has produced an ideal American 
type and again I repeat that I would like to 
put it on canvas. I had quite a little talent but 
it was not given expression, as is often the case 
and instead of becoming a famous artist, I am 
but a commonplace lawyer. But I have never 
entirely outgrown my interest in art and studies 
of nature still give me pleasure. I like to get 
out in the woods occasionally and forget stuffy 
office duties; if I had money I would make life 
a holiday. Money does so much toward mak- 
ing life worth while.” He gazed thoughtfully 
at the photograph. “I have the tastes that 
money satisfies but only a meagre income and 
who can wonder that we sometimes envy those 
who are more fortunate in worldly posses- 
sions?” Again he looked at the picture in his 
hand. “How I would enjoy a trip abroad this 
summer instead of preparing briefs which bring 
neither fame nor fortune.” 

“If I were a man I would do something — 
great!” She said this with a shining light in 
[ 65 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

her eyes. “I have ambitions that are out of 
place in such an environment. Men can make 
their circumstances as did the great Napoleon; 
but women are so handicapped. They have 
only clipped wings at the best. Now, what op- 
portunity have I for accomplishing something 
worth while?” She was very serious. 

“You can alter your circumstances easier 
than I can.” 

“In what way?” 

“A woman can marry.” 

“Not so easily as a man for he has all the 
advantages in that particular. You can go 
seeking and when you find the right one you 
can make known your wishes, but a woman 
has to choose from those who come to her. 
But I am not worried on this score since I do 
not intend to marry,” 

“You are not mercenary enough to marry 
for gold?” 

“If ’twas for love or money I’d have to 
choose the latter for I won’t. love.” She spoke 
frankly, looking into his eyes which were clear 
and gray. 

“You beg the question for you speak of 
something of which you are ignorant.” There 
was slight irony in his low voice. “I dare say 
if the right party appeared on the scene you 
might decide differently.” 

[ 66 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Never!” There was tragic finality in the 
word. 

“You almost offer a challenge. Such a state- 
ment made so boastfully might convey that im- 
port. Suppose I should try to put you to the 

test ” he eyed her with cold calculation — 

then he smiled and his face was very pleasant. 
“Do you dare me to accept — this challenge?” 

“Yes, I dare you to accept this most inter- 
esting challenge, Mr. Yeager.” The novelty 
of the situation aroused a reckless spirit within 
her. She was so quick-witted and vivacious 
that her companion began to reckon anew with 
this untamed bit of femininity. 

“But there is much danger for me in the ven- 
ture. Suppose” he spoke as though to him- 
self — “I should fall in love with you and you 
would not marry me? Then I would decide 
that I had been very unwise to run my head in- 
to a noose.” 

“But on the other hand whose head would 
be in the noose?” She smiled up at him with 
the mischievous eyes that might mean many 
things so unfathomable were they. 

“You believe that matrimony is a state of 
captivity?” A shadow crossed his face. 

“It would be for one of my nature. I could 
never subject myself to any bonds. I want to 
be — free !” 


[67.1 


UNCLE SAM 


“You think it well named then?” He spoke 
quietly as if stating a fact. 

“Yes. I would rather have a career.” 

“In what direction lies your ambition?” He 
noted the flash of her eyes as she replied 
quickly: 

“Now, what a question. Doesn’t a girl usu- 
ally want to go on the stage. That’s why we 
read so much advice to stage struck girls I 
suppose.” 

“And you would like to be a great star and 
bring the world to your feet?” 

“Wouldn’t it be grand?” She raised her 
beautiful eyes rapturously and what a lovely 
light shone on the dimpled face! Yeager was 
studying her attentively thinking that she 
might create a stir with her beauty whether tal- 
ents accompanied it or not, but he kept this 
wisely to himself. 

“The stage is an attractive life — I’ve had 
some histrionic experiences — but unless one has 
marked talent a woman better choose the stage 
of — matrimony.” 

“But how glorious it must seem to have 
every one looking at you — and listening to 
you !” 

“Now, you have disappointed me, Miss 
Saylor.” 

“In what way, please?” 

“I believed that I had found an unusual 

[ 68 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


woman, but I see that you are like the rest — 
crave admiration.” She blushed and replied: 

“You misunderstand me. I would like to 
create a part so beautifully that they would ad- 
mire — it — not myself. I imagine a good ac- 
tress forgets self entirely. Now the folks 
would lecture me if they only knew how I spend 
the hours in my room, dancing and acting be- 
fore the mirror.” 

“This is a confession.” 

“Oh, it’s great fun. Ever since I could walk 
I’ve liked to dance for then I would stand on 
the tips of my little toes, and move about as 
though I hadn’t a bone or joint. Father and 
I often dance together and have a good time 
but Seenie objects.” 

“I would like to see you dance very much. 
Will you dance for me some time?” 

“Perhaps. Jenny tries to imitate me and it’s 
fun to watch her. But she can play very well 
and has never been taught. Isn’t it strange 
how different we are?” 

“Yes, indeed. I feel that I should have been 
destined for some exalted place in the world, 
but in some way Fate has tricked me out of my 
just deserts. There are many men’s shoes I 
might fill to better advantage to both. I would 
exchange for a time with a prince.” 

“You might play with the great seal of 
state and do a number of other things out of 

[69] 


UNCLE SAM 


order. But wouldn’t it be nice to take up a new 
existence? I’ve often thought I would like to 
be a little mouse and creep about in people’s 
homes watching everything they did — and — ” 

“Frightening the ladies?” 

“No, indeed; I’d be a very serious little 
mouse peeping into their minds and hearts, and 
what interesting stories one could read!” 

“I prefer to be something bigger than your 
little mouse. I would like to stir the world 
with my power.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by the 
languid entrance of Teresa in her beflounced 
gown. Mr. Simpkins also arrived. 

“Miss Parish, did you say?” Yeager 
stopped curiously over the name as though he 
had not heard aright. 

“Teresa is visiting us. A relative from 
New York.” 

“We claim the same city.” He was very 
genial as he pondered over the spinster before 
him. “And I am sure you will agree with me 
in saying that there is no place like home.” 
Teresa was in one of her charming moods and 
responded with a little titter: 

“New York is delightful but my health re- 
quired country air. I must deprive myself of 
many comforts, but mother desired me to visit 
here. Mrs. Saylor’s former husband was Un- 
cle Andrew, my mother’s only brother. The 
[ 70 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


family never overlooked his marriage, but they 
could not prevent it as they did not know in 
time.” This candid remark surprised her lis- 
teners and Vallie was glad that Seenie was not 
present. Teresa became more and more ani- 
mated in her childish chatter as Yeager con- 
versed with her. Seeing the photographs she 
looked them over carefully. “The glen should 
belong to mother, or rather, to Lavinia and I. 
It was sold without our knowledge and dear fa- 
ther would have wished us to have it. You see 
Mr. Adams never administered our estate just- 
ly. But mother is always cautioning me about 
telling private affairs to strangers.” 

For his own reasons the lawyer was not 
averse to talking with Miss Parish. 

“Lavinia is very secretive, lacking the fine 
open frankness of my own nature. I am like 
dear mother and she is very like dear father 
who was a great surgeon. I was his favorite 
daughter and I know that he would have given 
me our home if he had been left to make the 
gift. If Lavinia shares it I do not want any 
part of it.” 

Reuben grew very restless, occasionally cast- 
ing interested glances toward Teresa who was 
enjoying the society of Vallie’s new friend, and 
in his keen questioning he had learned some 
facts about the family history that now occu- 
pied his thoughts. 


[7 1] 


UNCLE SAM 

“Seenie, let’s go in an’ have a word with the 
young folks, jest to let them know we’re to 
home, for it don’t look well not to talk to this 
feller Vallie’s took up with.” 

“Pshaw, Sam, it’ll look ’s if we’ve never seen 
folks afore, the hull push spreadin’ theirselves 
in the best room.” 

“Teresa calls it the drawin’ room so let’s 
go. Jinny, wash them hands a bit if you’re 
goin’ to bang for them an’ git some smudge 
off ’n your face.” When Uncle Sam entered 
Teresa was saying as she looked coquettishly 
from behind a large peacock feathered fan: 

“Mr. Simpkins — really — I should not have 
come in — considering the very embarrassing re- 
lations we had.” She sighed and gave her lit- 
tle laugh. Reuben was red to the bald spot on 
his head. Uncle Sam came to the rescue in his 
jovial way: 

“Reuben’s nag was pretty skittish, but she 
wouldn’t run off — you couldn’t make her, Te- 
resa.” This casual remark made Mr. Yeager 
look less blank and the conversation now cen- 
tered about the view of the falls which Vallie 
displayed to them with pride. 

“Now, ain’t that a fine bit of water an’ 
trees? an’ the little girl is the best of the pic* 
tur’.” He regarded it affectionately. “Don’t 
you think I have got a gran’ waterfall, Mr. 
Yeager? It’s hard to beat this side o’ Niager. ,} 
l72j 


UNCLE SAM 


“It seems to be a powerful flow and such 
beautiful scenery.” 

“I’m thinkin’ that this waterfall may yit be 
of use more’n jest to look at, for I b’lieves I 
c’n make some money out’n it bum-by.” 

“For a mill, Mr. Saylor?” He appeared 
but slightly interested in the subject that was 
near Uncle Sam’s heart. 

“Sunthin’ bigger than a mill. I reckoned ’s 
how it might supply ’lectricity for this region 
some day.” He was very anxious for the 
other’s opinion. 

“I’ve been more interested in the picturesque 
than the commercial, and I am not authority on 
such matters. It would take a large amount 
of capital to profit by such a venture.” It was 
the tone as well as words that dampened Un- 
cle Sam’s enthusiasm. His face relaxed its ex- 
pectant look and the eagerness of his voice died 
away. Teresa spoke up softly the while gently 
swaying her fan : 

“Uncle Sam, that is the land that mother 
owned, is it not?” 

“Yes, Teresa, the old gorge lan’ that she 
didn’t think wuth keepin’ an’ she may have been 
right in her guess.” 

“Lavinia and I never have agreed to that 
transaction, and we have told mother many 
times that she did not treat us fairly disposing 
of it to you. I wonder if it will be of value; 

[ 73 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


if it is, I think it would be nothing but right 
for you to sell it back to us at the low figure 
you gave.” Teresa was very keen when money 
interests were involved, and she would never 
cease talking about this particular topic, for 
hearing Uncle Sam blow about his future pros- 
pects caused her the more annoyance. Uncle 
Sam was not so optimistic as he had been and 
the lawyer was aware of it. Besides, he was 
vexed at Teresa. Suppose it was but another 
empty dream and he had had so many in his 
life? This gorge full of rocks and leafy fern 
dells was the only attraction of the farm, al- 
ways planning what he would do with his wa- 
terfall in the future of to-morrow. 

“Teresa, I wisht your ma had kept that no’ 
count land,” said Seenie with spirit. “He put 
the only cash he ever had into it, what he got 
tradin’ his acreage for. I knew he’d throw 
away the money on a trip if he didn’t buy it 
an’ so I ’greed to the deal, but this talk ’bout 
makin’ ’lectric’ty from it ’s nonsense. I tell 
him. I’m glad Mr. Yeager don’t encourage 
him to sich notions. He might sell it far 
sunthin’ some day an’ git back his money.” 
This made Teresa feel better and she smiled 
shyly across at Reuben who had not yet had an 
opportunity of talking with her. 

Of course the interest Mr. Yeager assumed 
toward her but increased Reuben’s ardor. 

[ 74 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


Jenny began to play for them and the eager 
fingers at once struck loudly at the keys, Seenie 
admonishing not to hurt the piano by banging. 

“Jenny, will you play my accompaniment 
while I sing a song for our guests?” 

“I ain’t got none,” she replied frankly. 
What’s it like, Teresa?” 

“Silly, do you mean to tell me that you are 
so ignorant? I wish to sing ‘Maid of Athens,’ 
now play for me.” 

“I dunno how it goes.” 

“Then I will take the stool.” She seated 
herself with many airs and graces, and began 
to warble in her throat an indistinguishable 
jargon of sounds that was most excruciatingly 
painful to her listeners, “I am not in very good 
voice to-night and mother is very particular 
that I do not injure my throat as it is very deli- 
cate.” 

“Proper good advice,” said Uncle Sam 
grimly. The others kept a discreet silence. 

“Perhaps I might try one more to please 
everybody.” Seeing there was no escape they 
acquiesced politely, and striking a few strag- 
gling notes awkwardly she directed a coy smile 
at Reuben as she sang feelingly: 

“Loved — one — loved — one — do you hear 
my voice pleading to you?” Mr. Simpkins 
was much embarrassed though he liked her 
smiles yet objected strongly to the music for 
[ 75 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

some reason. However, he was not a critic of 
music.” 

“Jenny dear, some day I will give you some 
lessons for it is not right that you should only 
drum.” 

“Don’t want no lessons, for I c’n play better 
than them’s as had ’em.” Jenny allowed her 
high spirits to find expression in the rollicking 
airs she dashed off with unconcern. “I c’n set 
up the musick an’ make-believe I’m readin’ it 
off, so what’s the dif ?” This explanation 
amused them all. 

“But I am shocked at the deception, and you 
play so faulty.” She seated herself beside Reu- 
ben and asked sweetly: “Mr. Simpkins, do you 
really admire my singing? I shall not be 
offended if you tell me for true praise is not 
flattery.” 

Poor Reuben was at a loss what to say and 
stammered feebly some inconsequent words 
about lovely music. Uncle Sam could contain 
himself no longer and made for the kitchen. 

“Seenie, ain’t she the goldarndest you ever 
seen? I felt sorry for Rube.” 

“Lands, he’s enjoyin’ bein’ made over for 
’tis a new feelin’.” 

“Too new to suit me.” Jenny came in burst- 
ing with the news that Teresa had told Mr. 
Yeager that “Seenie wasn’t good ’s Uncle An- 
176 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


drew, an’ that the family never liked his marry- 
in' her an ” 

“Jinny, did she say those things ’bout me?” 
She was angry in a minute and Uncle Sam saw a 
storm brewing which must be averted. 

“I’ll go right in there an’ let her know I’m ’s 
good as they are any day o’ the week. But they 
was alwus puttin’ on airs over me when Andy 
was livin’ but they ain’t cornin’ to eat off’n me 
now he’s dead, an’ tell strangers sich tales.” 
She waxed yet angrier as she found speech. 

“Now, Seenie, you know that Teresa ain’t 
nuthin’ but a blabbin’ baby an’ a fine woman 
of your sense an’ judgment shouldn’t care a 
penny what she says — she ain’t wuth it. Jest 
feel sorry for her silly tongue that harms no- 
body but herself.” 

“It’s all very well to talk that way but she’s 
old ’nough to know better, an’ should be took 
down ’fore folks to teach her some manners. 
She’s alwus talkin’ ’bout bein’ well bred an’ 
studyin’ from etket books an’ told me she’d 
read it to me but I said I had no time to l’arn 
new ways at my age — the old ones were good 
’nough for me. I wouldn’t talk snippy ’bout 
any one behind their back, leastwise not under 
their own roof.” 

“Teresa ’d say it ’fore your face the same. 
Etket may teach lots of things but it don’t teach 
what folks need most to know.” 

[ 77 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

“Ain’t it the truth, Sam, but I won’t stan’ for 
no sich talk an’ she might ’s well hear me out. 
There’s no tellin’ in the worl’ what she’s blab- 
bin’ this blessed minut’. When your own folks 
is snakes in the grass you are at their mercy 
for you can’t strike back. She might say 
things injurin’ Vallie for folks so selfish an’ 
stuck on theirselves are mighty pisen.” To turn 
the channel of her thoughts Uncle Sam asked 
her what she thought of the new beau. 

“He’s mighty good lookin’ but who’d buy a 
chicken for the feathers? an’ he may be skin 
an’ bone after all. It’s mostly that way. S’pose 
he’ll be hangin’ ’roun’ here till court ’s over — 
Vallie ’ll do to pass odd time with.” 

“It was kinder queer that he took the pictur’ 
of the waterfall, wasn’t it? I’m much obleeged 
to him ’cause I c’n take it to Noo York some- 
time an’ show to those big fellers with money.” 

“Sam, hear me for all time,” eyeing him 
coldly: “That waterfall ain’t nuthin’ but a wild 
idee an’ don’t think no more ’bout it for you’re 
goin’ to be po’erful dis’p’inted in the end.” 

“Um — m, come ’long to bed, Seenie, an’ to- 
morror try to git out ’n t’other side.” He 
yawned. When they passed the parlor door a 
frowsy head was close to the keyhole. 

“Jinny, Jinny, you git to bed ’fore I whips 
you. What I tells you ’bout Poll Prys?” 

[ 78 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

‘‘Teresa’s tellin’ him that she’s come to stay 
a long time. She’s ” 

“Hesh!” and Seenie gave her a shake and 
marched her up to bed. 

Reuben was very attentive to Miss Parish 
and began to wish that he was young enough to 
court her for her coquetry made him feel a 
very old bachelor. He was very cautious about 
his speech and actions and deeply appreciated 
this well educated woman from the city. Rube 
took her at her own valuation and this was 
very high indeed. 

“You know, Mr. Simpkins, that there is but 
one beauty in each generation of our family 
and I am the one in this. Sister Lavinia ad- 
mires me very much but she is jealous of my 
charms and yet it is not my fault. I am not 
vain, for I think vanity is a sin.” 

Vallie caught snatches of her conversation 
as she amused Mr. Yeager with various inter- 
esting experiences. “I often wander into the 
grove after dark and entertain myself por- 
traying different roles. The stars above are 
my audience and the whispering of the trees 
give me applause. On a moonlight night you 
might see Rosalind steal forth. I like that the 
best of all. I saw a production of ‘As You 
Like It’ at the college and I never enjoyed any- 
thing so much. They had the stage erected at 
the top of the hill and it was ludicrous in the 
[ 79 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


extreme. We crowded about the stage with its 
background of tall trees and the audience and 
cast were well jumbled together. They could 
not find the properties at the right moment and 
it was worth double the money.” 

“So you aspire to playing classical roles?” 

“Yes.” 

“I would like to see you as Ophelia.” Her 
face flushed as he looked intently into her eyes. 
For some reason she began to feel that he was 
very much interested for no one had studied 
her in that manner before. She liked his quiet, 
masterful voice that indicated a temperament 
radically different from some one else she 
knew. He was so calm and deliberate and 
Randolph was so impulsive and boyish in 
speech and manner. 

“I believe that I shall accept your challenge 
and I candidly announce to you that I have en- 
tered that race for failure or success. It would 
be most humiliating to be told that you had 
failed.” 

Vallie was almost frightened by the ex- 
treme earnestness of this new suitor who was 
not more than stranger as yet, and still he 
seemed to know his mind perfectly. It was a 
man speaking to her in a business-like way, 
who seemed to have weighed the matter care- 
fully. Ruled by judicial motives he would 
never have been guilty of stealing a kiss on a 
[Bo] 


UNCLE SAM 


moonlit balcony, but it was the more surpris- 
ing to hear him say that he had planned to lay 
siege to the heart of Vallie Saylor. 


[81] 


CHAPTER VI. 


AMONG THE CAT TAILS. 

Vallie danced out into the sunshine, down 
through the meadowland and across the corn- 
field; away off by the bank of the river that lay 
like a silver ribbon across Cleffalls farm. The 
water was clear and shallow where cat tails 
bobbed their heads as though planning some 
mischief. Nodding toward them she said 
gaily: 

“I want some of you for my porch cushions.” 
They were just a little out of reach, and Vallie 
prepared to wade into the cool stream that was 
very inviting. Poised in fragile symmetry 
against the dark background of massive oaks 
she made a picturesque study. So thought 
some one as he approached unheeded by the 
mermaid whose perfect feet glistened like ala- 
baster, the upturned face in bold relief with its 
magical lights and shadows. It could have 
been a pastoral masterpiece for there were all 
the elements suggestive of form and color. For 
the first time he realized the beauty of the girl 
in her artless unconsciousness of the picture 
she presented with the cat tails clasped in both 
[82] 



“Oh Mr. Randolph, please go away — right away! 


k Uncle Sam” Page 83 


ML 





UNCLE SAM 


hands. A startled exclamation recalled him 
to the present as her surprised gaze met his. 

“Oh, Mr. Randolph, please — go — away— 
right away!” He gave a hearty laugh as the 
humor of the situation occurred to him. 

“How I wish I had a camera!” He contin- 
ued to smile at her, gazing boldly at the pretty 
figure and flushed face. 

“Please go — away — the water is so cold!” 

He turned away, whistling as he did so. He 
was at the farm again, in the distance could be 
seen the gables of the white farmhouse which 
was an old landmark for over the front stoop 
was placed in letters of iron the name of an old 
Dutch family of a past generation. He had 
wanted to return again and he had seen her. 
He was especially interested in the study of 
types and Vallie Saylor was a new one. She 
was still nervous when she joined him, though 
she began talking in her natural manner: 

“I’ve thought so much about your coming, 
but how strangely things do happen — it was 
not the way I had expected we would again 
meet.” 

“I could not have wished for a nicer way. 
The girl Jenny told me where you would be 
found and I would not have missed that picture 
for anything.” 

“Forget it,” she replied laughing, “I wanted 
to fill my porch cushions with the down from 

[83] 


UNCLE SAM 


these cat tails for it is so soft.” He liked the 
way she fitted into her surroundings and he 
had always fancied just such a rural maid. The 
welcome sound of the dinner bell tolled through 
the stillness. Jenny saw them coming and ran 
into the kitchen with her bucket of water, spill- 
ing half of it on the clean floor. 

“Little pest! What ails you now, Jinny?” 

“There he is !” pointing wildly from the win- 
dow and speaking so loud that Richard heard 
every word. “Now he ain’t ’s handsome ’s 
the t’other feller, but reckon he’ll do. Hope 
he’ll stay a long time so’s I c’n git a chanct to 
play for him.” 

“Stop your carryin’ on, Jinny, like a chicken 
’thout any head. He’s jest a man, an’ goodness 
knows the’ ain’t none of ’em wuth goin’ over.” 
Seenie had never loitered from the moment he 
had arrived, stirring and stewing around until 
her husband remarked: 

“If the Creator Hisself was cornin’ to dinner 
you couldn’t fuss ’bout more.” 

“Do you want him to think we can’t git up a 
good dinner? Seenie Saylor’s ’s good a cook ’s 
any in that state, an’ why not let folks know it? 
then food never was fixed up yit ’thout hands 
an’ never will be. Now git out’n my way.” 
Teresa now came in and whispered: 

“Has the gentleman from New York city ar- 
rived? I am not feeling well to-day; my back 
[ 84 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


aches dreadfully and also my head. My eyes 
look so yellow — slightly bilious — I think, yet 
I will forget myself and meet Mr. Randolph.” 

“Reckon you’re too bilious to enjoy a good 
dinner?” Uncle Sam put the question but she 
ignored it, and Seenie was far too busy to listen 
to her complaints for once. 

“Uncle Sam, you are only teasing me when 
you say I am looking fine, and it is very trying 
to entertain under the circumstances, yet I am 
glad to be here as I will give distinction to the 
dinner.” 

“Jinny! Jinny! Do hurry an’ git that table 
set. Put on the best linen, yes, the best chiny, 
too; git some jell, an’ don’t forgit to go for the 
buttermilk. Sam, whip up this cream while I 
gits more butter from the spring house. Out 
of my way, Teresa. You are so small. No, no, 
I wouldn’t have you turn your hand for nuthin’ 
an’ I hope you’ll be better by the time dinner’s 
on the table. P’raps you ain’t feelin’ well 
’nough to eat any dinner?” she called back to 
her. 

“I will make an effort to appear, for mother 
says it’s one’s duty to think of others before 
one’s self. Isn’t that a lovely hen? I do like 
Seenie’s dressing, but some time I will show 
you how mother cooks a fowl. Not boiling the 
coffee, I trust? Mother never does.” 

[85] 


UNCLE SAM 

“Seenie, you know how to reach a man’s 
heart.” 

“Who’s wantin’ to reach the heart, Sam Say- 
lor? Don’t talk trash but walk in this minute 
with this platter an’ come back for more things. 
Jinny, Jinny, have you put on the napkins ? In 
the top drawer of the cupboard — you should 
know ’thout askin’. Jinny, wash up them hands 
an’ see to the dirty corners o’ your mouth. My 
— my — how do my hair look, I ain’t had a min- 
ute o’ time to dress it over. Lovely, all you 
know. Roas’ bird at one end o’ table and roas’ 
woman at t’other. Don’t care — come on folks. 
Jinny, put on this clean ruffled apron, an’ mind 
you act the lady when you wait on the table.” 

“If I’m nice c’n I play the piany after din- 
ner?” 

“I’ll see. Keep your fingers from the cream 
sauce. Sam, she’ll yit drive me crazy.” 

“Seenie, just a moment — how do I look — 
are my eyes very yellow?” 

“Yes, like saf’ron. Come on, grub’s gittin’ 
cold.” 

“Mr. Randolph, so glad to welcome you 
ag’in.” Uncle Sam bowed with stately dignity 
as he gave his hand a hearty grip. All were 
seated yet Teresa didn’t appear. 

“We won’t wait, Sam.” She dropped into 
the room as though she were about to faint and 
murmured some soft words over Richard’s 
[ 86 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

hand, mingled with regrets about her health 
which he did not understand. 

By the time she had been generously waited 
upon she came from under the feeble spell and 
gave forth delighted simpering giggles, at regu- 
lar intervals asking Seenie in a low voice if a 
morsel of this or that would be injurious. “I 
am quite delicate, Mr. Randolph, and unless my 
health required my remaining in the country I 
would not deprive myself of city pleasures. 
Uncle Sam, just a trifle of the breast, please, 
and a trifle more of the dressing. I have lost 
my appetite of late and it worries me greatly.” 
She picked and minced over her food in a man- 
ner that exasperated Seenie. “Mother thinks 
I had better consult a doctor. By the way, 
Seenie, is Dr. Briggs still in Brighton? Mother 
was inquiring about him in her last letter. He 
was a very good friend of father’s. Seenie 
does very well with the cooking since she has 
always lived in the country. The simple fare 
seems to agree with me and I shall return home 
as rosy as a school girl.” 

“Simple fare is the best,” remarked Uncle 
Sam, with a twinkle in his right eye. “Chicken 
three times a day an’ plenty of ham and eggs 
and good cream.” 

“I prefer the country, Miss Parish, for you 
can live like a king.” Vallie gave Richard a 
grateful look for Teresa’s conversation was be- 

[87] 


UNCLE SAM 


coming very monotonous and she could say 
nothing in their defense. She determined that 
some day she would return this visit and see 
how royally they lived. 

“I expect to visit you and enjoy those luxu- 
ries for a change.” 

“In late years mother’s health is so frail that 
she rarely entertains.” She spoke with 
a blandness that shocked them. They looked 
at one another and felt ashamed of her. 

“That’s a regular Parish trick,” thought 
Seenie, “close an’ closer ’n the bark. Is Mis’ 
Randolph enjoyin’ good health?” 

“She is quite well and wished to be remem- 
bered to you. She has been very actively occu- 
pied with business matters. She often speaks 
of her delightful visit to you and trusts she may 
have the pleasure of seeing you again.” 

“I would like to see her,” said Uncle Sam. 
“She’s a mighty fine lady, an’ then she writ 
‘Li’le Jody.’ That’s a hull book o’ life in it- 
self.” 

“I only read the best known writers,” said 
Teresa, “for mother has never allowed us to 
indulge promiscuously in light fiction of the 
day. When Lavinia and I are old enough we 
can then make our own selections.” 

“Huh — ‘Li’le Jody’ ain’t no light readin’. 
It’s a hull book o’ life in itself an’ I puts it 
next the Bible. There’s the light showin* 
[ 88 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

through the darkness. You read that book an’ 
you’ll know better how the poor live — an’ 
starve.” 

“Mother says the poor cannot be helped for 
they are so shiftless — so lost in dissipation and 
sin. She thinks they are quite hopeless and 
does not allow Lavinia and I to read of their 
wicked acts. We must have the poor — does 
not the Bible tell us as much, but the slum dis- 
trict should be far from high-class people. 
They menace us and yet we must endure them. 
I dislike the poor and illiterate. Poverty 
makes me shudder.” 

“You shudder and it shivers — both condi- 
tions are wrong.” 

“I know that I should not feel so, Mr. Ran- 
dolph, but why should we be annoyed with 
their troubles? I am afraid to go out alone on 
the streets for fear a beggar will snatch my 
purse. Mother gave me a little cash for my 
trip.” In a stage whisper she said to Seenie: 
“Do you believe Jenny is quite honest?” 

“Yes, I am. I wouldn’t touch your money.” 
She came close to Seenie and whispered: “Do 
you think Teresa would steal the five dollars 
Uncle Sam give me on my birthday?” adding 
loudly and spitefully: “You have to watch 
strangers.” They were shocked at her bold- 
ness, but Teresa had brought it upon herself 
by her own unjust remark. Uncle Sam relieved 

[89] 


UNCLE SAM 


the unpleasant situation by launching into a 
story for he had them ready whenever needed: 

“Seenie, I ain’t told you the latest on your 
old flame, Fletch. You know, Mr. Randolph, 
Fletch ’s sheriff here in place of Flem Dyer 
who went daffy over religion. They’ve been 
havin’ pretty stiff revivals down at the Baptist’s 
meetin’s an’ one night when the young folks 
was goin’ home they stopped ’fore Flem’s 
house an’ carried on with singin’ an’ lookin’ out 
he seen their pipes lit an’ took it into his head 
that the Lord had done a mir’cle an’ went plum 
daffy. They aimed to take him to the ’sylum, 
an’ Fletch was to lan’ him safe under lock. 
When they come there, Flem stepped up an’ 
rung the bell an’ ’thout sayin’ a word he then 
handed to the keeper the commitment papers 
he had stole from the other’s pocket. Fletch 
tried to explain best ’s he could but stammers a 
sight an’ he didn’t convince ’em that he wasn’t 
crazy. He was locked in an’ Flem went an’ 
had a good time in town, then when evenin’ 
come he give himself up with a grin an’ Fletch 
come home. Folks have joked him a sight 
about it.” 

“Alwus knew Flem was off ’n his head.” 
Seenie was amused. 

“Folks, I’m hankerin’ for a fish pole an’ 
some bait. This is jest the weather for a good 
[90] 


UNCLE SAM 

time. Teresa’s been pinin’ for a mess all 
’long.” 

“I would enjoy a day’s outing myself. Sup- 
pose we go this afternoon?” Arrangements 
were soon made and Uncle Sam with his guest 
and daughter set forth for the gorge where was 
offered excellent opportunities for a good 
catch. Uncle Sam was an expert angler and 
he was never happier than when at this pleas- 
ant sport with his cob pipe between his lips. 
Teresa did not accompany them as she did not 
feel well and indolently passed the afternoon 
with a novel. 


[9i] 


CHAPTER VII. 


FISHING. 

“Folks think that you can’t fish all the year 
’roun’, but I’ve caught many a one when the 
snow was on the ground, fishin’ in a big spring 
near the river. The spring never runs dry 
there for it’s near the big waterfall.” 

“I saw the picture of it.” Richard still had 
it in mind and vaguely speculated about the 
photographer who seemed to find an interest in 
the farm even as he did. He had a sudden de- 
sire to meet this young lawyer. Already he had 
grown jealous of him. 

“How do you bait for fish, Mr. Saylor?” 
They talked as they passed through the leafy 
woods. 

“Early in the spring the common red worm 
is the best — say till May — after that I use the 
small crawfish or tail of a large one. Later 
on I use the minnows an’ crawfish. It’s best to 
catch ’em when they’re feedin’ an’ we’ll be in 
time to lan’ some carp for they bite from two 
to four — I gits my perch early in the mornin’ 
an’ the cats at night. Don’t ever fish in deep 
water for they don’t go out there to feed. I 
like to trap an’ catch most anythin’ from 
[ 92 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


snakes to hawks an’ muskrats an’ otter. I gits 
four or five dollars for mink hides.” They 
now came to where in a beautiful spray the 
water fell splashing and never ceasingly among 
the rocks and rivulets. 

“Ain’t she a beaut. I own that fall an’ it’ll 
make me a nice little wad some day when it’s 
used for a water power. There ain’t no rea- 
son in the worl’ why it can’t be made to do big 
stunts. I know ’twill be valuable in time an’ 
that’s why I’m holdin’ out on’t.” Richard 
was at once interested and with the instincts of 
one of his profession he at once surveyed it 
critically before stating an opinion which he 
knew the other wanted. 

“I believe you are not far wrong. I haven’t 
seen a finer water site than this and my work 
takes me around a great deal. You may realize 
your dream,- at any rate hold on to the land 
awhile yet.” Uncle Sam’s face was in a glow 
of pleasure for he prized this opinion from one 
who was authority. 

“Glad I am to hear you say ’s much for the 
folks have laughed a heap at me for thinkin’ 
this old gorge would ever bring anythin’. Mis’ 
Parish didn’t think I was gittin’ much when she 
sold it to me or I wouldn’t have had the chanct 
at it. Seenie said nobody but me was crazy 
’nough to pay out the cash for’t.” 

“A most beautiful spot will be ruined when 
[ 93 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

it is utilized for commercial purposes and this 
inroad of progress into nature’s stronghold 
makes one think of Irving’s lament over Sher- 
wood forest.” 

“Yes, that’s a pity, too, but consarvin’ beauty 
ain’t an easy thing to do nowadays when we’re 
all scramblin’ for the dollar.” 

“There is a movement on foot now to locate 
a water power in this region for I heard father 
talking about it the other day. Being an engi- 
neer I was interested.” 

“What business your father in, Mr. Ran- 
dolph?” 

“His interests are many and varied but mines 
have been his especial hobby — and railroads. 
He has a fine head on him but I haven’t, for I 
don’t seem to see much incentive for getting so 
active and bringing forth new wonders for 
mankind’s benefit. Are we better off than 
when we lived in primitive times without the 
modern necessities? Life is much harder for 
most of us and holidays come so seldom to the 
ordinary working individual. It is an unceas- 
ing struggle for mere existence. It has taken 
years for us to learn the new way of living, ac- 
customing ourselves to indoor habitation ra- 
ther than the open and adopting civilized man- 
ners. Now the cry is back to nature again, 
leading that simple life we have forgotten and 
we might sigh for the old spinning wheel days. 

[ 94 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


I would like to see this young lady busily en- 
gaged at the wheel I saw at the farm. Would 
you like to return back to that period ?” 

“No, indeed. I prefer things as they are.” 
If she referred to the moments passing so plea- 
santly he agreed with her for he was content 
to watch the glorious light of her limped eyes 
and the golden sheen of her hair illumined by 
the sun’s kisses. 

“Mankind’s boun’ to go ahead jest the same. 
Human natur’ ’s jest plain human natur’ the 
worl’ over, ’ceptin’ it’s more ornary in bad than 
good soil.” 

“Modern soil is not the best by any means.” 

“I wonder if this old world was ever 
straightened out how long it would stay that 
way?” Vallie smiled up at him as she dangled 
her line. “Suppose we’ll always have to be 
dusting the cobwebs from our foggy brains and 
sweeping the snowbank from our hearts, clean- 
ing the dingy corners and making over new.” 

“That gives the zest to life. We enjoy the 
doing more than the final accomplishment of 
things. The perfect will never be reached for 
will there not always be wrongs to be righted 
and uplifting necessary?” 

“Yep, but we won’t have so much to do that 
there ain’t a breathin’ spell when we live on the 
top o’ the mountain an git a good view.” 

“To-day the world’s slogan is ‘gain! Not 
[ 95 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


in the things of real value but in the dross ma- 
terial. We measure our desires, our motives 
and ideals by the supreme thought of personal 
gain. If we give something we want more in 
return. If we sell it must be a gain — if we buy 
it must be a gain— to ourselves. It has been so 
bred in our very lives that poet and prophet 
alike fall under its Midas touch.” 

Uncle Sam enjoyed talking more than any- 
thing, and finding young Randolph so ready to 
converse with him was a great pleasure. Few 
of his associates could fully appreciate the fine 
ideas of the old man, but now he found a men- 
tal stimulus in an exchange of thought. One was 
skeptic, the other optimist in its broadest sense; 
one saw only the darkness, the other the light 
filtering through. Uncle Sam had arrived at 
the serene wisdom of years where he beheld 
the final working plan of humanity, while the 
younger man saw only the turmoil, the great 
unrest, and was impatient of the world’s slow 
advancement. Beneath his scoffing words there 
beat a heart alive to modern regeneration of 
social ills, keenly studying every move for its 
betterment but at times he felt the bitterest dis- 
gust for his fellow man and asked flippantly if 
the old world was worth saving after all. 

“Here where you can heed the voice of na- 
ture attuned in sweet serenity to all its various 
moods and changes is the right mode of exis- 
[ 96 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


tence. Where you can look heavenward and 
forget that you are paltry man, seeming for the 
moment a part of the great universe, where 
you can wander ’neath the great forests and 
listen to the whispering of the leaves above 
your head with strange secrets of their own 
world; where the winged creatures of the air 
give forth sweet bursts of freedom’s own song. 
As your fancies drift away with the clouds 
you forget the sordid roar and grind of city 
life and seem to sleep with eternal peace.” 

“Wa’al, the kentry life is all right for some 
but I love best the stir in the big city where 
folks are rushin’ an’ runnin’ ’bout doin’ things. 
Now I do like Noo York where you can see so 
many folks an’ all kinds.” The restlessness in 
Uncle Sam’s eyes appeared as though haunted 
by a vague uneasiness. “P’raps if one had 
sunthin’ of interest to pass time with ’twould 
be all right but it don’t suit me to ’tend to pigs 
an’ chickens an’ cattle. My mind ain’t content 
w T atchin’ the crops grow an’ it’s all Seenie needs 
to make her happy. She won’t leave the farm 
for nuthin’. I reckon I needs sunthin’ bigger 
to keep me busy — but I ain’t a notion what it 
’d be. There’s a heap o’ us pine away our lives 
’cause we ain’t fit into the right hole.” 

Richard studied Uncle Sam’s complex na- 
ture and he decided that here was a great hu- 
man problem that had not been properly classi- 
[ 97 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


fled. He was one of many that under the right 
environment would have developed into a 
power of usefulness; heart and soul stirred by 
some desire implanted in the very depths of 
their nature. Richard sympathized with the 
older man for he had never seemed placed cor- 
rectly himself. 

What a tugging and straining at the leash 
from the days when he had played truant at 
school devising every possible means to escape 
discipline. Yes, he had always been dodging 
duty even as did the small boy try to elude Mr. 
Toil. He had led his companions into way- 
wardness, for his ingenious mind planned many 
a wild escapade, if it was no more harmful 
than making a stealthy raid upon mother’s jam 
and secreting it at midnight in his Sherwood 
Forest. Taking it by a circuitous tunnel way 
which he had worked through underground, 
for at an early age he planned these extensive 
engineering feats to reach Robin Hood terri- 
tory. 

As a youth he had been leader, but as he 
grew to manhood he drew more apart from his 
own sex and in his wandering existence solitude 
had been his only portion. He was restless 
with an undefined yearning which life had 
failed to give him. He liked his work when he 
had something strenuous ahead to combat with, 
but he had small incentive to its greater accom- 
[ 98 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


plishment. Many times he had wished that it 
had been necessary for him to live by the labor 
of his own hands, for then he might have found 
the needed stimulus. Had he found it here in 
the green glades where there was such restful- 
ness, where the blue of the domed sky lighted 
the sunny slopes with the daisy’s bloom and the 
cowslips in yellow bud? 

As they bent to the task of angling for a bite 
he found himself talking freely to her of his 
past and present life, for in her own charming 
personality he seemed to receive needed inter- 
est to arouse him from the mental laziness that 
possessed him. 

“I think I’ll soon have some luck,” she said 
gaily, “but I chatter too much to have success. 
I don’t imagine I can charm a fish by that 
means.” 

He was giving more thought to something 
else than the fishing, for he was enjoying a 
new sport where attractive fish seemed as elus- 
ive as those in the water. Vallie held over him 
a secret power he could not define, while ex- 
tremely frank in manner, yet there was that in 
reserve which he wanted to find. This kept 
him eager for further companionship with her, 
for upon each occasion he felt that they had but 
met. As she looked at him with her white 
teeth gleaming between full, red lips, he said 
languidly: 


[ 99 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“I don’t believe that you are the same girl 
I saw on the veranda in the moonlight.” 

“Why?” Her dimples were deep as she 
asked the question. 

“Because you are so different.” 

“In what way do you mean?” 

“Like a chameleon — as quickly you go 
from one shade to another; grave, gay, sad, 
tearful and laughing. Who are you, little 
witch, which the real Vallie and which the 
makebelieve? I doubt if I shall ever find her. 
But there is witchcraft about you I know, for 
somehow you’ve stolen my heart — and I want 
to know — only you.” 

“I don’t know myself for I believe that I 
am a dozen different girls and it’s baffling of 
course.” 

“First I thought of you as merely a pretty 
girl — then I decided that you were a most 
beautiful woman who could make a man re- 
member — and now I know that you are a heart- 
less flirt.” 

“Oh, never that!” Her rippling laughter 
filled the air. 

“I believe you are, and that you are now try- 
ing to flirt with me,” eying her keenly with 
deep blue eyes, “but beware! You see that fish 
dangling helplessly upon my hook — yes, I have 
him safe and sound — well, he was flirting with 
my bait. I warn you you’re playing with fire.” 
[ioo] 


UNCLE SAM 


“A warning, indeed !” She tossed her pretty 
head coquettishly and seemed to forget him en- 
tirely for the moment. 

‘‘Ain’t I done fine? Reckon Teresa’ll have 
’nough fish for a time.” Uncle Sam came to- 
ward them with his line well filled and they 
felt rather ashamed of their progress. 

“I had forgotten to deliver a message from 
my mother which was the mission I was sent 
upon to-day. She wishes you and yours to visit 
her as she has arranged to entertain you. She 
intends to have a theatre party to-morrow night 
and especially desires that you be present.” 
Uncle Sam’s face was alight with pleasure at 
the prospect of a trip to the city and Vallie 
was delighted with such a possibility before 
them. 

“I’d be proud to go — if Seenie’s willin’, but 
she’s kinder set ag’in’ the play-house an’ might 
not like our goin’ — if she knew. Vallie an’ 
me ain’t ’posed for good plays do a lot of good 
an’ we’ll go if we can. Seenie’s not likin’ the 
idee of my leavin’ home, for bein’ a traveler 
she’s afeard I won’t want to git back.” 

“I’ll promise to send you back all right if 
we can arrange it satisfactorily with her. 
Mother is anticipating the pleasure of meeting 
you again.” 

“I am just dancing within me at the thought. 
I have never been to New York nor to a 
[ioi] 


UNCLE SAM 


theatre. Oh 1” she clasped her little hands dis- 
playing to advantage the white, tapering fin- 
gers. “You don’t know what it would mean to 
me!” In the lovely eyes were the tears which 
sprang as easily as raindrops from an April sky, 
and then there flashed forth her radiant smile. 
Vallie’s smile! It could not be described but it 
made dull hearts throb with hope and the dark- 
est day bright. 

“Papa, I shall go, for I have longed to see 
a real play.” She waved her graceful hands as 
though giving a welcome to the joys awaiting 
them. 

“I hopes you can, little girl, for I knows 
what a treat it’ll be to you, for ain’t you been 
cooped up here long ’nough? Me an’ Vallie 
’d both love to see player folks for we ain’t 
ag’in actin’ ourselves. I might ’a’ been one 
if I’d had my chanct, for I likes to read aloud 
from my book.” 

“Vallie,” he spoke the name familiarly and 
she did not seem to object, “this is your fishing 
time. The sunlight lingers so long — then it 
vanishes forever.” As they strolled homeward 
they talked and he was serious for some reason 
though she combated his mood by her light ban- 
ter. 

“I shall no doubt be like Teresa — a last 
leaf hangin’ on the family tree, an’ try to ply 

my little hook in after years ” 

[102] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Yes, then you will try in vain to find some 
sucker — but you’ll be fishing for lost opportuni- 
ties gone in the years that are told — you’ll be 
floundering wildly for — love. When you are 
old and things don’t interest you, what will 
take its place?” 

“Oh, when I am old and fat and forty I 
will be a lovely spinster, and why should one 
prize what is only idealistic? Think of the 
frights that are devotedly loved in the world — 
why should I want this same thing that is so 
blind?” He laughed and replied: 

“Some day you will want it and then it will 
be too late. It’s always best to get it early, for 
like the measles, it goes less hard with one.” 

“Teresa, see what we’ve brought you.” Te- 
resa looked cross and said in a tired voice from 
the depths of the hammock hung across the 
shady veranda : 

“How small they are. I wanted to have 
baked fish. I have been so unhappy with a 
severe headache, and how long you were gone.” 

Seenie came bustling out and said she would 
soon have the fish ready for supper. 

“Mrs. Saylor, mother wishes you to come 
and see her.” 

Seenie was pleased with the invitation. “I 
thank your ma kindly but I jest can’t leave 
very well now. I have all the dairy work on 
my hands.” Her husband was secretly glad, 
[103] 


UNCLE SAM 


but his face did not show his real feelings. 

“Vallie an’ me might go up for a day or so 
if you didn’t mind?” There was a hungry en- 
treaty in the eyes. 

“Sam, you know I can’t trust you in Noo 
York. Why, you’d want to go clean crost the 
’Lantic ’fore I set eyes on you ag’in.” She al- 
ways spoke of him as though he were a child. 

“Oh, Mrs. Saylor, I’ll promise to see that 
he comes back all right. Mother was so anx- 
ious for you to come that I wish you might ar- 
range it.” But Seenie didn’t care to take the 
trip, and it was decided that the others would 
go. The rift now appeared in the shape of 
Teresa. 

“Uncle Sam, I am so glad that you are going 
home for I would like to see mother and Sister 
Lavinia, and then I’ll enjoy the remainder of 
my stay better.” Vallie looked appealingly at 
her father. 

“Of course we’ll enj’y your going with us for 
I knows that Lydia ’ll be glad to git you back.” 
He went whistling, “I’m your little soldier boy 
come home,” and wrote on the kitchen door: 
“Fishin’ ain’t alwus catchin’.” Then he proceed- 
ed to the barn and watching the horse eat his 
supper he meditated, then scrawled on the bin : 
“Feedin’ ain’t alwus fillin’.” He hurried back 
to the house. 

“Seenie, Seenie, you ain’t washed out my 
[104] 


UNCLE SAM 

night shirt an’ what’s on the cuffs of that blue 
shirt, have you?” 

“Sam Saylor, trust me I’ve tried, but it ain’t 
no easy matter rubbin’ out that crazy scratchin’ 
an’ hear me now — night time ain’t for writin’ 
but sleepin’, an’ clothes ain’t no scratch pads.” 

“I forgits by mornin’ an’ them was fine say- 

• »_ n 

in s. 

“No harm’s done, for who’ll ever care a red 
cent?” 

“The worl’, p’raps.” 

“Well, thinkin’ jest harms yourself, while 
writin’ harms others.” 

“Take me with you,” a voice at his elbow 
pleaded beseechingly. 

“Wh — y, Jinny, I can’t take you much as I’d 
like to.” 

“Then I’ll tell Seenie that you’re goin’ to a 
play-house. Oh, didn’t I hear Vallie talkin’ 
’bout it, an’ I do want to hear the fine musick 
— oh — oh, I want to go!” Tears rained down 
the muddy face making rivulets. 

“Shucks! Wisht I’d never been ast to go 
to Noo York. Now, ’f there ain’t Teresa, an’ 
you’re up an’ makin’ a fuss; an’ my heart ’s 
sighin’ ’cause I can’t take Sam’l. He’d like the 
music an’ seein’ a play, I knows.” Uncle Sam 
didn’t like to disappoint the child for there was 
such eagerness in her face. 

“Now, Jinny, I knows you wouldn’t tell 

[105] 


UNCLE SAM 


Seenie, for there ain’t a mite o’ harm in it, but 
she jest thinks there be. I’ll git you sunthin’ 
fine if you’re good.” 

“Don’t want nuthin’.” There was utter de- 
jection in the voice and she kicked her foot 
against the door, and refused to be comforted. 

Great preparations hurriedly began for the 
trip and Richard decided he would spend the 
night and take the early morning train with his 
guests. He would have that much more time 
with Vallie and now that he had seen her again, 
he was loathe to leave. He seemed to have 
assumed a familiar place in the family and all 
the happenings of the farm life were of in- 
tense interest to the city-bred lover. 


[106J 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A PAUPER PRINCE. 

Seenie saw them off with a sigh of relief. 
She, with the help of the entire family was 
quite busied getting Teresa ready, for she had 
no more idea of the flight of time than a care- 
less child. After she had been stowed away in 
the surrey she thought of various articles for- 
gotten, which had to be brought, until Uncle 
Sam feared the delay would cause them to miss 
the train. 

Richard admired Vallie’s trim appearance in 
a traveling suit of fawn color which fitted her 
rounded figure to perfection. In their excite- 
ment they failed to note that some one else had 
got aboard, and it was not until the train was 
well under way that a timid hand pulled Uncle 
Sam’s coat sleeve. 

“Jinny! Jinny!” There was reproach and 
amazement in the words. “Whatever made 
you do this, Jinny, stealin’ off from home an’ 
gittin’ on the train?” 

“I jest couldn’t help it, Uncle Sam, I jest 
had to go an’ hear that musick — if I git 
whipped for ’t. If you’ll forgive me this onct 
I’ll be good — alwus.” She crossed her fingers 
[io 7] 


UNCLE SAM 


impressively, but Uncle Sam was very stern. 

“But, Seenie? Does she know?’’ 

“Yes, I left some writin’ tacked to the door 
so’s she c’n see it. She’ll be mad ’s a wet hen 
I reckons.” 

“Papa, we can’t take her.” Vallie’s voice 
was full of vexation as she glanced at the dress 
the child wore which was very ordinary. 

“I’m sorry I don’t look fitter.” She apolo- 
gized as she looked helplessly at Richard, and 
he at once spoke in her defense. 

“The more the merrier, and Jenny will have 
a good time. We can take care of her and 
she will enjoy the music more than any one. 
You know mother will be anxious to hear her 

play.”. 

“Will she let me go to the play-house?” 

“Why, to be sure. Now, Uncle Sam, didn’t 
you ever run away to a circus?” Richard 
laughed as he spoke. 

“Wa’al, if Jinny c’n enj’y it I’m willin’, but 
she’s goin’ to pay a big price.” He looked at 
her pityingly. 

“I ain’t carin’ ’f Seenie does whip me. I c’n 
forgit them but I’ll remember the musick — 
alwus. I couldn’t sleep last night for thinkin’ 
’bout it, an’ I know it’ll be better than the cal’- 
ope, I heard onct, for you took me to the circus, 
an’ Seenie don’t know we run’d off that time, do 
she?” 


[i°8] 


UNCLE SAM 

.Richard’s plea in her behalf won Jenny’s 
good-will, and she was his loyal friend for she 
was very appreciative of kindness. When they 
arrived at the spacious home of the Randolphs 
there were more guests than had been expected, 
but in her charming manner Mrs. Randolph 
at once made them welcome and they were soon 
at their ease. They wished to go home with 
Teresa, returning there for dinner in the eve- 
ning. 

They were tired and hungry when they ar- 
rived at the old-fashioned brick dwelling in 
Washington Square. Sister Lavinia was very 
glad to see them and Mrs. Parish was quite 
youthful in appearance for her years. Uncle 
Sam was anxiously waiting for a cup of hot 
coffee but nothing was said about it being the 
luncheon hour. The sisters withdrew and 
Jenny bit her dirty finger nails and Uncle Sam 
looked at the old clock in its glass case. Val- 
lie decided she would go and find the girls, and 
leaving the others talking over old times she 
made her way to the rear of the house where 
she heard loud voices in excited conversation. 
At the table covered by a dark oil cloth sat the 
two sisters and they were eating their lunch 
from a number of paper boxes, hoss feed as 
Uncle Sam would call it. 

“May I come in?” she asked sweetly. 

“I intend to go to-night to the theatre for 
[109] 


UNCLE SAM 


Teresa cannot go without mother and I chap- 
eroning her.” Vallie was dumbfounded, but 
she managed to say that they had not been 
invited. 

“I am sure she will be delighted to have us in 
the party.” Vallie felt hopeless and said, 
changing the disagreeable subject: 

“When will lunch be ready? I am so hun- 
gry that I could eat dry bread.” 

“Mother isn’t well to-day, and perhaps it 
would be better if you lunched at a restaurant.” 
Teresa munched some crackers as she spoke. 
“Had mother been expecting us she would 
have made preparation and served one of her 
elegant dinners. We have most exquisite china 
and silver which I would have liked you to see 
as you live in such ordinary style at the farm.” 
Vallie lost no time in telling her father that 
they would go out for lunch. She also advised 
him of the prospects ahead for the evening. 

“They should know better. What will we 
do with them?” 

“What can we do?” Vallie managed to 
leave Jenny with them while she and Uncle Sam 
dined at the Randolphs’, arranging to meet 
them later at the theatre. 

The luxurious surroundings gave Uncle Sam 
and his daughter a glimpse into another world, 
and yet how easily they fitted into their niche 
as though accustomed to its elegance and con- 
[iio] 


UNCLE SAM 


ventionality. Uncle Sam appeared very digni- 
fied in his well brushed black suit and snowy 
linen. The only discordant note was the 
daughter of the house who retained a hauteur 
that held them at a distance. 

Mrs. Randolph dispensed hospitality with a 
lavish hand as was her wont, and she made an 
ideal hostess, seated at the brilliantly appointed 
table, listening with her ready interest to the 
conversation from her guests. 

“I want to tell you ’bout how I happened to 
git into court to-day, Mis’ Randolph.” Uncle 
Sam’s eyes were very eager as though he had 
seen into a new view of life. 

“Have you been to court, Mr. Saylor?” 
Naturally she was very much surprised, as was 
t Vallie. 

“Yes, ma’am, I went there an’ I’m glad of ’t. 
You see ’s I was passin’ ’long a big feller kicked 
a little yeller headed boy out’n the door into 
the gutter right by me. I seen the hull ’fair an’ 
heard his rough words to the boy who’d been 
sellin’ papers to his customers inside. The 
little feller begun to sling stunes at the doors 
an’ then the saloon man ordered up a blue coat 
an’ he was marched off to the station. I never 
stopped to think ’bout where I was goin’, but 
went fast ’s I could after them, not mindin’ the 
heat nor the folks knockin’ into me, for I was 
boun’ to follow that boy come what would. He 
[in] 


UNCLE SAM 


never knowed a frien’ was near an’ when he 
was put up for bad conduct then it was Uncle 
Sam’s time. I got up an’ made a speech to thet 
jedge, tol’ him how brutal that man had treated 
a poor little boy tryin’ to make a livin’. I don’t 
know all I said but it was mighty to the p’int 
I reckons for the jedge let the boy go an’ had 
the saloon man brought to him ’stead. I saw 
jestice done this day an’ I’ll never forgit.” He 
had raised his white head proudly and in the 
face was an expression none had ever seen 
there before as though within him had been 
awakened hidden power. He did not under- 
stand why Mrs. Randolph looked so concerned 
and yet happy for it was strange he had had 
such an experience. She knew that it was an 
excellent preparation for what was to come. 
He could talk of nothing now but on this sub- 
ject and as she was greatly interested herself 
the time passed very pleasantly. Her husband 
was out of town which she regretted to-night 
as it was an occasion he did not like to forego. 

Vallie admired Richard in his own home 
more than she ever had — he was very ready to 
assist in the little details that make a complete 
host. He was so considerate of mother and 
sister and attended to the wants of his guests 
in a perfect manner. He was essentially a la- 
dies’ man, not thinking it beneath his dignity to 
[112] 


UNCLE SAM 


enter into theur small pleasures, and yet he was 
far from being a mollycoddle. 

Uncle Sam was called upon to discuss Sam’l’s 
education and tell the latest about his book and 
every other incident which was a part of his 
uneventful life. He told about Jenny playing 
and how she had come to hear the music and 
this gave Mrs. Randolph new copy of which 
she was always in need. Her stories were 
woven from life, seeing in every one material 
that under her clever art became reality, and 
her characters stood out in bold relief, chis- 
elled and molded into perfection. 

It was late when they arrived. Vallie felt 
that they had caused their hostess the greatest 
embarrassment by the appearance of their rela- 
tives who insisted upon occupying the box 
with the others. Elsie looked very disdainful, 
and Vallie began to wish that she was far away, 
noting the cold eyes of the beauty arrayed in a 
gown of palest green. Vallie knew she ap- 
peared to great disadvantage in her simple 
gown of white. They attracted much attention 
and Vallie would have been surprised indeed 
had she known that she held the gaze of many 
for her eyes shone and her cheeks and lips were 
of ruby hue. Without jewel or flower she was 
queen among the many brilliantly gowned wom- 
en of fashion. Elsie was aware of her superb 
beauty and this but added to the frigidity of her 
[H3] 


UNCLE SAM 


manner. Her mother enjoyed the novelty of 
her box party and was not in the least disturbed 
by the new elements, chatting sociably with one 
and all. Little Jenny seemed very frightened 
by the glamour of lights and tried to hide in her 
corner. Vallie gradually forgot all vexation of 
the spirit, for was there not the big stage? and 
soon the curtain would rise — and the rapturous 
smile of wonderment transfigured her face. The 
burst of music from the orchestra caused Jenny 
to become very pale — her eyes were wild — her 
large mouth was open and hands limp at her 
side. 

Was that music? No — no, it couldn’t be! 
Not real music. No music could be like that. 
It must be from heaven ! She stared — her face 
working convulsively, and her fat fingers mov- 
ing restlessly up and down the gown which 
Teresa had provided — and a pain filled her 
heart she had never known before. 

Mrs. Randolph was so intently watching 
Vallie and Jenny that she was unaware of the 
attention she herself attracted, for their box 
was marked by curious eyes. Perhaps it was 
Uncle Sam who had called forth much excited 
comment. 

Of all the group, Elsie was the only unhappy 
element. Her mother should not have invited 
these people on this occasion, and the constant 
[n4] 


UNCLE SAM 


attention her brother paid to Vallie but in- 
creased her displeasure. 

“You must find being in the city quite a 
treat after the monotony of your country life?” 

“The monotony I love,” interposed her 
brother quickly. 

“I know you like the country, and the oppor- 
tunity of studying rural types, for you say that 
it is necessary if you understand life. He likes 
nothing better than to become acquainted with 
peculiar and common people. He has a num- 
ber of friends who amuse him but he has never 
met a woman he was sufficiently interested in 
to marry. He would wish a very intelligent 
wife — for he is so talented.” 

“I suppose one would want intelligence,” re- 
marked Vallie sweetly. Her own sincere na- 
ture could not grasp the slurs the other would 
cast upon her, but Richard knew that his sis- 
ter was capable of sending home poisoned ar- 
rows with flattering speech. He was glad that 
the other was different so that she was un- 
scathed by any hurtful words. 

Instinctively, however, Vallie drew away 
from from the lovely goddess, as she seemed 
to be in her eyes, and felt much out of place. 
The confusion but added to her beauty as she 
looked upon the handsome women glimmering 
and scintillating with jewels. The things that 
Vallie saw entirely escaped Jenny for she did 

[115] 


UNCLE SAM 


not move a muscle listening to the heavenly 
strains. And now at last the curtain was ris- 
ing. Mrs. Randolph showed visible emotion in 
her face and her slender fingers trembled upon 
her son’s arm. Why was she so excited? Was 
it her first play also? Yes, strange as it may 
seem — it was ! 

There was a busy scene before them. In the 
large McVeys’ Cannery were engaged men of 
every nationality — Greeks, Italians, Swedes, 
Germans; a commingling of noise in many 
tongues. Across the stage there came a small 
boy carrying a basket upon his arm and in a 
sweet voice he called out : 

“Papa, Little Jody has brought your din- 
ner!” 

Why, what has happened to the old man in 
the box? He had suddenly risen to his full 
height and leaning far forward he pointed with 
a trembling finger toward the stage saying in 
a voice filled with strong emotion : 

“Why, it’s Li’le Jody! It’s Li’le Jody!” 
The child heard and turned to him with a start- 
led look, then he continued with his role, while 
Uncle Sam stood, his face very pale and eyes 
bright in their eagerness. 

The audience had become more interested in 
the box where sat the author smiling happily 
with tears in her eyes, for could one have had 
a more glowing tribute to always remember in 
[n6] 


UNCLE SAM 


after years? As Uncle Sam thought of his sur- 
roundings he sat down in some embarrassment 
and he said in a subdued voice, seeing the eyes 
upon him : 

“Mis’ Randolph, you ort to Ve told me it 
was to be Li’le Jody. Didn’t I know it fust 
word he spoke?” 

“Yes, and it was beautiful — beautiful — I 
shall never forget — never!” 

The scene had changed — darkness was be- 
fore them and the cold of a wintry night found 
the little waif struggling through the snow- 
drifts trying to find a shelter, sent by policemen 
from one place to another, and he had no- 
where to lay his weary little head. His poor 
father had been left torn and bleeding, mangled 
by machinery’s cold clutches and dying, he had 
left his little son alone to face the world. 

No one cared for him; no one was respon- 
sible for the little orphan without home and 
food. There was the chiming of Trinity’s bells 
and it represented Christ on earth. 

Presented to their eager eyes was a sweat 
shop scene where Jody toiled with many other 
unfortunate children, with chalk white faces and 
stooped shoulders, their fingers never stopping 
from dawn to dusk, for the paltry cents that 
helped eke out their miserable incomes. Chil- 
dren that should have been out in the sunshine, 
having their playtime, but these old-young crea- 
[ii 71 


UNCLE SAM 


tures were helping “big business” and modern 
civilization for the uplift of humanity. The 
great resource was entirely forgotten, ruthless- 
ly squandering it for those which had no real 
value. Li’le Jody touches every heart in the 
sacrifice he makes for a companion worker, 
more unfortunate than himself, and here Uncle 
Sam exclaimed heartily: 

“Now, Mis’ Randolph, ain’t he a pauper 
prince !” 

“I had no idea it would be this style of play,” 
said Teresa. “It is almost as ordinary as 
some of the common characters that Dickens 
describes.” Her words were unheard in the 
burst of applause that rang from pit to gallery. 
It was a tribute from the hearts of the people 
to the heart of the author and she understood 
and appreciated it deeply. 

“Dick, I have been made very happy to- 
night.” 

She would know other happier times here 
which the future held. 

“Mrs. Randolph, I can never, never thank 
you for this great pleasure.” Vallie took her 
hands impulsively. “We’ll never forget it — 
never! You are so wonderful!” 

“Could I see Li’le Jody, Mis’ Randolph, jest 
to shake his hand?” 

She led them behind the scenes while the Par- 
ishes waited as they did not care to mingle with 
fn8] 


UNCLE SAM 

common stage people. Vallie did not know 
that there would be so much confusion and how 
very unattractive everything appeared as men 
pushed scenery about and loud voices gave or- 
ders. Li’le Jody laughed up at Uncle Sam and 
he was happy as he talked to him, while Mrs. 
Randolph thanked one and all for the good 
work they had accomplished. “We worked 
hard but we won !” 

Vallie looked brightly into Richard’s eyes as 
she bid him good-night: “It was so nice of you 
to ask us to come to-night.” Before returning 
home with him Mrs. Parish told her that she 
and the girls had decided to visit at the farm 
and would accompany them on their return trip. 

She did not sleep for she was far too ex- 
cited. She began to have a strange feeling 
about Elsie, and it dawned upon her that for 
some reason she did not like her. But the 
brother — he was in her thoughts to the exclu- 
sion of all else and she could not forget the 
look in his eyes as they parted at the foot of the 
marble stair. It was one which reminded her 
of Roscoe Yeager when he had accepted her 
playful challenge and how very unreal every- 
thing seemed. 

Jennie had spent the night with Teresa and 
curled upon the horse hair sofa she was soon 
asleep dreaming she was playing the big bass 
fiddle while monkeys capered about her in glee. 

[119] 


UNCLE SAM 

Her one waking thought had been to get home 
to the piano, for she wanted to play all the big 
instruments and the little ones as well; she 
wanted to be a whole orchestra herself. She 
was playing — now soft — now loud — and so 
sweet and so weird. 

When Richard came to see them off the fol- 
lowing morning he was introduced to Roscoe 
Yeager. He was rather uneasy when he heard 
the latter say that he expected to take the same 
train and his air of proprietorship over Miss 
Saylor piqued the jealous nature of Randolph. 
The hours he and Vallie had spent together 
had been sufficient to arouse a strong passion 
which made him count the time when they 
would meet again. 

“I saw you at the theatre last night — and you 
looked as though you were enjoying yourself 
very much.” 

“Yes, indeed.” Vallie’s eyes sparkled from 
the words Richard had spoken over her hand 
in his impulsive fashion. 

The trio, as she called Lydia and her daugh- 
ters, were at last made comfortable and she 
waved a good-bye as the train moved away. 

“I wonder when I shall see dear old New 
York again.” She was thinking more of Rich- 
ard than of the city and her companion guessed 
as much. 

“How would you like to live here all the 
[120] 
































































■ 





I 























“I would pine for my own native hills I expedt — and long for 
the river and the meadows and the wild flowers.” 


“ Uncle Sam" Page 121 


UNCLE SAM 

time?” He looked at her seriously as he asked 
the question. 

“I would pine for my own native hills I ex- 
pect — and long for the river and the meadows 
and the wild flowers.” Then she turned to him 
with a sudden impulse: “I know that I was out 
of place last night and felt it keenly.” She 
wanted him to state an opinion and he knew it. 

“You could hold your place whether it was 
in palace or mart, for you can fit into any set- 
ting. Don’t feel that you were not a part of 
the brilliant assembly for you were equal to any 
— in intelligence or looks or refinement.” His 
voice had never been more melodious than when 
he paid her this true praise and she smiled at 
him with a grateful look in her eyes. 

“You do not know how that has helped me, 
Mr. Yeager. I feel everything so — deeply. 
Last night I could not sleep for I felt so stupid 
and countrified. I make myself miserable when 
I am so dissatisfied with myself. Can’t you 
understand? There is so much that I have 
never known. The world has been far away 
and I looked on at a great distance, but when I 
go to it — I do not feel afraid — I do not feel 
that it is not my home — only I know that I am 
but a country girl.” 


[121] 


CHAPTER IX. 


A LAW-SUIT. 

Seenie met them in silence and Uncle Sam 
knew that this was the worst of signs. She gave 
Jenny a look through and through which took 
all the gladness from her, then turned to the 
others with a curt: “Mornin’. Lydia, what are 
you doin’ here visitin’ at your age? an’ hoped 
Teresa ’d stay where she could git sunthin’ to 
eat.” Jenny started for the parlor door but 
Seenie had her sharp eye on her and drew her 
back with a strong arm. 

“Don’t you think I’ll have a girl runnin’ off 
an’ then cornin’ to that piany. Mind what I 
say! This room is goin’ under lock an’ key 
forevermore.” Suiting the action to the word 
she turned the key and left Jenny standing be- 
fore the coveted room, the tears running down 
her dirty face. 

“Oh, the mean — old — mean — old — mean — 
old — thing ! I jest do hate — her — hate — her !” 

“Now, Jinny, come here.” Uncle Sam put 
his arm about her and patted the tumbled head 
lovingly while she sobbed out her heart con- 
vulsively. 

“She ain’t never heard no real music, Uncle 
[122] 


UNCLE SAM 


Sam. She don’t know what you an’ me know, 
do she?” 

“No, an’ Seenie ain’t seen Li’le Jody. We 
ort to be sorry for her. Come, wash up an’ 
try to be a good girl an’ you c’n play some time, 
I knows you can.” But Jenny was very rebel- 
lious for the muse within her had been aroused 
and was fighting its way out, her nervous fin- 
gers were eager to touch the keys — but she 
could not. She did not want to attend to 
kitchen tasks when she might make divine 
sounds that burned within her brain. 

“Sam, I’m goin’ to whip Jenny if she keeps 
up this sulkin’ fit.” 

“Seenie, let me tell you how ’tis. She heard 
the fine music at the play house an’ ” 

“Sam Saylor! You been takin’ those girls 
to sich a place an’ never told me of ’t?” 

“Oh, Seenie, listen to me; I’ve seen that Li’le 
Jody on the stage — oh, I wisht you’d been 
there.” 

“Sam, that’s mean to go an’ not take me 
when you know I read an’ liked that book of 
Mis’ Randolph’s. I’ll not forgive you leavin’ 
me out of the fun.” 

“Seenie, I’m so sorry, but didn’t think you’d 
go an’ Jinny thinks she c’n play that gran’ 
music. She can’t, but she’s achin’ to try, let 
her go to the piany.” 

But his request was not granted and she was 

[i 2 3] 


UNCLE SAM 

in a worse temper and all had the full benefit. 
“Sam, we jest ain’t got no room for them pesky 
folks. You had no business to bring them an’ 
it did me a lot of good sendin’ you off with one 
to have three come back. I’d think they’d be 
’shamed to all come to onct an’ wantin’ the best 
goin’.” 

Vallie obligingly gave her room to Mrs. 
Parish and the spare bed chamber was occupied 
by Lavinia who quarreled with Teresa about it 
so that she had to move into the room off the 
kitchen. Here there was but a single bed and 
then the trouble began. Every morning she 
came forth saying feebly: “Mother, dear, La- 
vinia hasn’t a weak back and I have and I can- 
not sleep in that bed another night. Cannot 
I have my own room again?” Lavinia would 
not give it up so the time passed very disagree- 
ably for all until Seenie would say over and 
over in a bitter tone of voice: 

“Blood puts upon us what a hull ocean o’ 
water can’t never wash away.” 

“Papa, there is a stranger wishes to speak 
to you upon an important business matter.” 
Uncle Sam left the family group and entered 
the parlor, vaguely wondering what this tall, 
sleek looking individual might desire. 

“Wa’al, what c’n I do for you?” He eyed 

[124] 


UNCLE SAM 


the grey-haired man with some curiosity not un- 
mixed with apprehension. 

“I’ve called to see you concerning a little 
business matter,” he began with a bland smile. 
“I understand that you now own a tract of land 
■which you purchased from Mrs. Parish.” He 
rubbed his lean hands and proceeded since his 
listener did not say a word. It had come at 
last! His chanct! 

“Now, Mr. Saylor, I am representing the in- 
terests of Mr. Oscar Adams.” The name elec- 
trified Uncle Sam, and the hopeful expression 
changed to one of dismay which the other plain- 
ly interpreted. 

“Oscar Adams?” The words came halting- 

ly- 

“Yes, I am his attorney, and I wish to talk 
to you about this piece of land. Perhaps, sir, 
you are not aware that the estate of the late 
Dr. Parish is still indebted to the administrator, 
Mr. Adams?” Uncle Sam was still very cau- 
tious of speech and would vouchsafe no re- 
mark and he was stunned with the thought that 
he was about to lose that which he valued above 
all else. His instinct of danger vaguely told 
him that trouble was brewing, yet he did not 
reason it out for his brain seemed paralyzed for 
the moment. 

“This land was purchased by Frank Robbins, 
who failed to make his payments, and it came 
[125] 


UNCLE SAM 


back to the estate, the title being held in Chan- 
cery, this occurring after the other property 
had sold out of Chancery according to the 
agreement existing between the administrator 
and Mrs. Parish. The widow of the deceased 
sold you this land presuming she had the right 
to it but the debt owing Mr. Adams covered it 
so that your title is not clear. Her home was 
exempt as you understand.” Uncle Sam lis- 
tened attentively but was still discreetly silent. 

“Mr. Adams wishes to secure this land which 
he did not know had passed into your hands 
until recently when he proposed to use the same 
to build a ” 

Uncle Sam’s eyes looked very expectant and 
then fell as the other continued: 

“A summer home since his wife is quite an 
invalid and he hopes for a restoration of her 
health by living on the ridge.” There was a 
sense of relief in the rugged face yet he was 
skeptical of the other’s meaning, for did he not 
know Oscar Adams? 

‘‘As this land is of no material value to you, 
Mr. Saylor, Mr. Adams has authorized me to 
say for him that he will make you a price which 
would pay you better to accept than to lose it 
by law, for otherwise he will sue for its re- 
covery as it was illegally sold to you. This is 
not your fault but misfortune, understand, 
which we regret.” 


[126] 


UNCLE SAM 


Uncle Sam was overcome by the unexpected 
change in his fortunes. What chance could he 
have in a legal battle with Oscar Adams? A 
grim smile lit up his face at the thought. He 
was the one man in the world he would have 
liked to whip out, yet knowing the scoundrel 
he could not comprehend his low methods for 
they were too deep and designing for ordinary 
beings. Adams would win without a doubt for 
had he not ever covered his tracks well by the 
hand of the law? This had been Lydia’s down- 
fall. 

“Will you sell the land?” The question was 
very direct and a trifle sharp. 

“No, I will not sell the land. I will enter a 
lawsuit first.” His answer was final and the 
other rose to leave. Uncle Sam had grown 
very white and yet he stood erect and looked 
the other fearlessly in the eye. 

“I ain’t bringin’ this suit, remember, an’ if it 
goes ag’in me I can’t put up the costs. I’ll not 
part with the lan’ which is mine by rights, an’ 
she was robbed of the rest by this man, her hus- 
band’s best frien’ or pretendin’ to be. Go an’ 
tell him every word I said.” He maintained his 
courage until after the lawyer had gone — then 
he collapsed. With his head in his arms he 
sat very still for he could not tell the others yet. 
For the first time in his life he was involved in 
a law-suit and he had no weapons with which to 
' [127] 


UNCLE SAM 


defend himself. It was like jumping into a 
black pit to try to win over this man for he 
would yet get his way. But all the fight in his 
nature cried out against this rank injustice and 
he could not give up. 

When Seenie looked at her husband she ex- 
claimed: “Sam, what has took you, you’re so 
bad lookin’ ?” 

“It’s nuthin’ ’ceptin’ old Adams ’s tryin’ to 
steal the last bit o’ lan’ he failed to git from 
Lydia.” They were shocked by this news, ex- 
cepting Teresa, who listened calmly, seeming 
indifferent to Uncle Sam’s despair. 

“Lydia, I want you to tell me in plain terms 
how that feller did you out’n your property?” 
Every one in the room was very still as Lydia 
began in her quiet voice, a bright color in her 
cheeks as she tried to speak of the past with its 
troubles. 

“When the doctor died he left no will, mere- 
ly saying he left all to me. The estate went 
into Chancery and Adams was appointed ad- 
ministrator as he was the heaviest creditor. 
He told me if I would agree to his taking the 
land out of Chancery he would bid in the prop- 
erty himself, giving me a statement to show 
that this was done in the interest of the estate. 
He bid it in very low so that it was all covered 
by his debt and he refused afterwards to give 
me the written agreement he had promised so 
[128] 


UNCLE SAM 


that I had no redress. He still says we are in 
his debt and counts that we owe him interest 
for these years on his original amount. Now 
that was how I got nothing from my husband’s 
estate. I had a right to the piece you hold since 
it was not included in this property he claimed 
and so I took possession of it.” 

Uncle Sam was very thoughtful and he had 
never done such hard thinking in his life. He 
could not see his loved waterfall go without a 
great struggle. He knew that Adams would 
proceed at once to file suit but would he suc- 
ceed? Sometimes the wicked are caught in 
their own traps and might not he have 
a chance? This preyed on his mind. 

He was glad to have Yeager call and when 
he told him about the pending law-suit the 
young lawyer was aroused and very solicitous 
in his offers of help. Uncle Sam was amazed 
to hear him make the agreement to represent 
him without any remuneration, for he explained 
he would have won a big victory if he could 
successfully combat Adams, who was known 
for his shrewdness and astuteness. Vallie felt 
very grateful to Mr. Yeager for his kind prof- 
fers of sympathy. 

“I believe that you will be able to hold your 
own ground, for to me, from all I learn of the 
facts, there seems a clear case of swindle on 
his part. I know that he has moved presum- 
[129] 


UNCLE SAM 

ably within the boundary of the law and he 
thinks he’s safe as all these transactions have 
been sanctioned by the decree of the Chancel- 
lor; but the Statute of Limitations has not run 
against them, so there is a chance to bring him 
to time.” 

“In what way?” 

“I would advise Mrs. Parish to file suit 
against him.” 

Roscoe Yeager had never been so interested 
in any legal work and his usual calm was 
ruffled by the unexpected turn events had taken. 
As he talked with animation Vallie saw a dif- 
ferent man, for he was excited and his eyes 
shone with the battle he intended to wage. 
They did not read all in his heart or they might 
have found out that it was not unselfish mo- 
tives alone that prompted this plan, for when 
he won Vallie Saylor’s heart he preferred that 
her hand would not be empty. Did he not crave 
money and all the benefits to be derived from 
its power? And was he not very much in love 
with this rural beauty who almost made him 
forget for the moment the mercenary motives 
which had in the beginning led him to this 
courtship. He would not allow his pathway to 
be blocked by any obstacle. He knew that he 
had a formidable rival in Richard Randolph, 
and now he was baffled for the moment by this 

[130] 


UNCLE SAM 

law-suit, which might rob him of that he found 
too valuable to lose. 

Therefore he threw himself heart and soul 
into the struggle for he could not see that land 
go to Adams; while spending the warm hours 
looking over court records he saw as a reward 
a barren stretch of land which held many hopes. 
He had sketched out in the beginning how to 
utilize the waterfall and he knew where the 
capital might be obtained. He held a secret 
that was shared with only one — and the time 
would come when others would be surprised 
and also benefited. 

He had learned it one cold December day 
when a little eccentric man had come to his 
office with a pinched face that seemed to lack 
proper nourishment. But the man was not 
poor, and before he left a will had been drawn 
up which involved a large amount of money, 
and from that day he had thought of the bene- 
ficiary. 

Also had come to his mind the pleasures that 
could be gained by this same wealth, and as 
stealthily as a thief creeping into his dark work, 
his thoughts had crystallized into a purpose that 
had never left his mind. To accomplish this 
became his only aim in life and all else was 
subjected to it. In one way he had found his 
task less unpleasant than he had anticipated — 
and then again he had fears of defeat. He 
[Hi] 


UNCLE SAM 


hated defeat even as did the man against whom 
he was pitted, and every energy of mind and 
body was employed, and he would stoop to use 
the same tools as the other. Money mania had 
seized hold of the young legal light who had 
gained already a reputation in his profession, 
but he was ambitious for other things than 
merely a name. Roughly would he ride over 
sentiment and duty to bring his desires. 

When he was with Vallie, her candor and 
purity of heart at times almost disarmed him, 
but his admiration became so sincere that con- 
science pricks were unfelt, justifying himself 
that his course was honorable. Now he saw 
a way that would make her under obligation to 
him and there would be more in his favor. 
When he had defeated Adams then would he 
fight his other rival. 

Ah, the whisperings of the past! Would 
their echo reach to future years? They startled 
him at times by sinister misgivings, but he 
would find a way to remove the last and most 
formidable obstacle. 

“You really seem very glad to see me.” Val- 
lie gave him a most cordial greeting. 

“I am*delighted for I have been so anxious to 
talk to you about a very serious matter.” His 
face fell as he asked what was so important. 
[132] 


UNC.LE SAM 

“Well, ever since I was in New York I have 
been thinking about one thing ” 

“One Richard?” 

“Conceit! You know I have always been 
wild about the stage, and I want to ask your 
advice about having a career.” 

“Ah ! This is so sudden.” 

“Now don’t laugh at me and make light of 
my ambition.” 

“Will you do the popular vaudeville stunts 
or be leading lady?” 

“I want to be the leading lady, please — if I 
may?” 

How fascinating she looked as she sat beside 
him on the porch settee, her eyes shining with 
the plans she had in mind, which had kept her 
wakeful since she had last seen him. The 
glimpse of the theatre had aroused all the girl- 
ish desire for stage life. Seeing that she was 
really very much in earnest he dropped his jocu- 
lar tone and assumed a most profound serious- 
ness while he studied her thoughtfully. 

“I understand, Miss Saylor, that you ask my 
advice as to the possibility of your having a 
stage career. Have you ever considered what 
this involves? It means that you have to fight * 
your way from start to finish and when you 
have reached the top you have to keep on 
fighting harder than ever to keep your place. 
After the lights are out — the theatre is dark — ■ 
[i33] 


UNCLE SAM 


you are left alone. Your real home is the 
stage — here you work, hope, win or fall, giving 
your life to please others, ever at the mercy 
of a capricious public, and after all is said and 
done — you are only an actress!” 

“But to be that would be everything — to 
me !” 

“How do you know when you have never 
tried?” 

“I feel it within me — I do ! Now that is your 
idea and this is mine: A life full of change and 
new emotions lacking the monotony of every 
day happenings. To study and be' creating 
something new all the time, having that to look 
forward to when you awake and when you go 
to sleep. One must study hard but I should en- 
joy that part if I had sufficient ability to bring 
success. I should not want to be a second rate 
actress nor only a chorus girl — I should be sat- 
isfied with nothing less than — the top of the 
ladder.” 

“Vallie, it is far above you and I would not 
be the one to tell you to try to climb upward, for 
so many fail.” 

“Oh, I see that you are not going to give the 
least bit of encouragement. You talk like Mr. 
Yeager did when I asked him to advise one.*’ 

“Perhaps we both have the same reason.” 
He looked very grave and she smiled at him 
understandingly. 

[i34] 


UNCLE SAM 


“I will not be turned aside by your opinions.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you what you can do. Experi- 
ence is the best teacher as they say and why not 
get some of it?” 

“How?” 

“We could get up a dramatic club and put a 
play on so that you could show us what you can 
do.” 

“Oh, that is absurd. Who would take part?” 

“The whole bunch of us. There’s Yeager, 
Uncle Sam and Seenie, Teresa, Lavinia and 
Lydia.” She laughed outright. 

“Don’t joke so much.” 

“I’m serious, and to prove it I’ll go to New 
York and find a play that will be suitable.” He 
now became more interested for an idea had 
chased into his quick mind like an inspiration. 

“We could have some fun out of it and I’ve 
had quite a lot of experience as I once took 
my own company about when I was younger — 
a minstrel troupe. We can get up a good play 
I feel sure — do you think Seenie would per- 
mit?” Vallie was amused at the way he had 
become familiar with their names, as though he 
were one of the family. 

“Oh, I’m afraid not.” At that moment Mrs. 
Saylor appeared with a smiling face and Rich- 
ard approached her upon the subject. 

“Mrs. Saylor, I am going to ask a favor of 
you and it is that you will take a part in a play 
[ 135 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


which we propose working up to be given under 
the great trees — right out there,” pointing with 
his finger. “We’ll ask all the town to come and 
clap for us and it will be a treat for old 
Brighton.” 

“H’m, my church ’d put me out, Mr. Ran- 
dolph.” 

“Tell you what we’ll do. Charge admission 
and give the money to the Ladies’ Aid or For- 
eign Missions or something else, then they 
wouldn’t object, perhaps.” 

“We’re needin’ a new carpet for the church 
an’ a new organ an’ the women ’ve been tryin’ 
to git up the money but folks don’t help much. 
I’d kinder like to have that new carpet — but 
don’t you think plays are harmful, Mr. Ran- 
dolph?” 

“The kind we present won’t be, Mrs. Saylor. 
We’ll get something very good with a high 
moral, so that there cannot be any objection to 
it on that score.” Uncle Sam’s enthusiasm 
knew no bounds and when his wife saw that he 
was so deeply interested she withdrew any ob- 
jections she had, for Uncle Sam was not very 
well, having been worried over the law-suit. 

“Sam’s needin’ sunthin’ to take his mind 
away from that pesky lan’ an’ old Adams for 
he has it on his tongue the hull time an’ I’m 
’feard it’ll bring on a crazy spell. I tells him 
what’s the use o’ lettin’ that old hill slope grieve 
[136] 


UNCLE SAM 


him to death, but he won’t give up the idee 
that there’s a mint o’ money lyin’ idle there.” 

Richard looked rather mystified and Uncle 
Sam launched into an explanation of the trou- 
ble that had developed. 

“I know now that it is of value.” Uncle Sam 
was pleased. “You see Adams thinks he lost 
the best property after all. Fight it to the fin- 
ish, Mr. Saylor.” But when he heard who was 
their lawyer he was less enthusiastic and pre- 
ferred that another might be in Yeager’s place. 
Yet he did not care to say as much. He did not 
like him for some reason but he had not de- 
cided whether his distrust was fair to the man. 
But there was something peculiar in the man- 
ner of his meeting with Vallie and yet why 
should there have been? Richard was puzzled 
yet he could not define the unwarranted doubts 
he held toward the other. That he was going 
to marry Vallie Saylor if possible he had de- 
cided, and he had also determined that Yeager 
couldn’t, for he would prevent such a step. 

“This play seems wilder than anythin’ even 
Sam’s got up, but I’ll have to help out if the 
young folks want me. I know I’ll do a nice 
turn ’fore folks, an’ I never made a speech in 
my hull life. Sence Sam seen Li’le Jody he 
ain’t talked of nuthin’ else an’ Vallie’s like him 
— gone daffy over the stage.” 

“I c’d have been an actor ’f I’d had my 
[i37] 


UNCLE SAM 


chanct, Seenie. Vallie an’ me c’n dance for the 
folks. She’s hard to beat when it comes to 
gittin’ off the steps. Could you have that in the 
play?” 

“Yes, indeed. What is your specialty, Mrs. 
Saylor?” 

“Sam says it bossin’ folks ’bout so you c’n 
find me that kind of a speech.” He laughed 
with the others. 

Vallie clasped her hands with delight and 
Jenny was open-mouthed in her excitement, and 
slipping up to Richard she whispered: “Won’t 
you let me be in’t an’ play the piany?” 

“Yes, indeed, Jenny must have a part and 
show how fine she can play. Then there’s Reu- 
ben.” Teresa looked delighted as he men- 
tioned the name and Lavinia noting her smile 
appeared very sullen. Oil and Water were the 
names which Seenie thought should have been 
given to Lydia’s girls, for there was such dis- 
cord in their natures. Their mother, with soft 
words, was always trying to smooth over the 
disagreeable discussions, but from childhood 
there had never been anything but jealousy be- 
tween them. This had been engendered with- 
in Lavinia’s heart when as children her sister 
had been more praised and petted, as she was 
a very attractive child and seemed to make 
more friends. 

Richard saw the chance for a good perfor- 
[ 138 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

mance with the various elements rightly assem- 
bled. Jenny was happy for she now saw an 
opening to play the piano. Richard did not 
know the ban that had been placed upon her 
music and could not understand her eagerness. 
1 he door was open now but she knew that she 
did not dare venture to the coveted place for 
was not the big black whip hanging in the 
kitchen? and Seenie knew how to use it. Uncle 
Sam could not stand between her and that whip 
if she disobeyed. He had told her not to play 
and she dared not. 

“If I’m to play ’fore folks, I better be l’arn- 
in’ better.” There was wistfulness in the voice 
but Seenie said quickly: 

“You c’n play good ’nough, an’ run back to 
your work.” 

“Seenie’s been punishin’ her for runnin’ off 
to town.” 

Uncle Sam’s words explained all the pent up 
longing in the eyes and restlessness of spirit. 

“Now we’ve buzzed a heap what we goin’ 
to play?” 

“I’ll run up to the city and try to find some- 
thing. I think a rural play would be nice, and 
what an ideal al fresco setting we can have in 
the grove.” 

“Say, couldn’t we play Li’le Jody?” 

“We haven’t any Jody in the troupe for 
Sam’l is too small and Jenny too large.” 

[i39] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Why don’t Maria bring that baby over? 
Ain’t seen him for two days. Better go over 
for reckon he must be sick.” 

“You’ll be the sick one if you don’t go. Sam, 
you are alwus carryin’ on over the baby.” 

“Him an’ me ’s partners in all things well ’s 
book makin’. I’m gittin’ some kites ready for 
him to* fly an’ little boats that he can sail in 
the river.” 

“Yes, he’ll be drownin’ hisself, too.” 

“Goin’ to throw him in an’ make him swim 
like a man. That’s the way to raise a boy.” 

Lydia offered to assist in the play for she was 
very bright and vivacious of speech. She wore 
soft clinging gowns, with puffed and curled coif- 
fure, quaint and very becoming, like an old- 
fashioned portrait with all the simplicity and 
gentleness of a past generation. She could step 
off the dances of ye olden times with the light 
foot and grace of a girl, and she deplored the 
modern dances as they do not tend to graceful 
figures. She wore flowers in the hair touched 
with silver, which Richard thought a pretty cus- 
tom, and he liked her very much indeed. She 
would be an addition to the play without any 
make-up. 

“I hope that Belle will take part,” said Val- 
lie when the others had left them alone. “But 
I don’t know why it is she has not been over as 
much as usual. Jenny said, and she always 
[140] 


UNCLE SAM 


seems to know everything, that Belle likes Mr. 
Yeager. He has called there some and I hope 
that he is not going to come between us, for 
Belle and I have been such friends for years. 
I don’t care anything for him — I don’t tell her 
when he calls upon me, for why do it, as he is 
only a friend?” 

“Friends become something else sometimes 
— when men are very nice looking — I have 
never seen a better looking fellow than Roscoe 
Yeager. I have never gone in much for that 
sort of thing for I like homely men and 
women ” 

“Now, you said you liked me, so what am I 
to think?” 

“It is an exception in your case.” 

“Thank you.” She looked at him wickedly 
and continued : “When you smoke your old pipe 
you look like ” 

“One of the common herd.” 

“Yes, very ordinary — but sometimes your 
face looks so fine.” 

“Indeed!” He was pleased by her candid 
opinion. “It looks as though somebody was 
planning a whirlwind campaign to do away with 
my beloved pipe.” 

“I don’t care if you smoke or not as it’s noth- 
ing to me.” 

“When I come again I intend to present my 
candidate before you and I want you to be pre- 

[141] 


UNCLE SAM 

pared to give him a welcome.” His words 
made her start with apprehension. 

“Richard!” She spoke his name for the 
first time and how sweetly it sounded as it 
passed her lips. She was very serious-eyed. 
“You are so unusual — so business-like in — 
would one call it love making?” 

“Love, Vallie! If you only knew what my 
feelings have been ever since that first night — 
when I kissed you — oh, there are no words to 
explain, so I will better be matter-of-fact as you 
say. I am peculiar and an erratic person but 
you have fired my heart and brain. I want you 
to think of that candidate to the exclusion of all 
else — you do not know me very well — but you 
will find out in time what a snare and a delu- 
sion I really am — the only good thing being my 
love for the sweetest — the most fascinating and 
wickedest little witch in all the world. I defy 
any man to love you as I do ! I defy any man 
to try to win your heart! Oh, I’m wild and 
my blood is at boiling point! I have fancied 
that I had this love before but I didn’t know its 

first meaning. I ” Uncle Sam came toward 

them with a beaming face. 

“The airship is goin’ to fly cross-country this 
mornin’ an’ I hopes we’ll be able to see it, for 
it must be ’bout time for it to pass from what 
the paper says. Hello ! Maria, you’ve come in 
time for to see the big show, an’ I’m glad 
[142] 


UNCLE SAM 


Sam’l ’s awake for he mustn’t miss seem’ that 
wonder. The day’s been right to my notion, no 
high winds nor rain. I’ve been lookin’ for 
quite a spell but can’t see nuthin’ yit.” 

“Sam, Sam! It’s cornin’! It’s cornin’!” 
Seenie came hurryin’ out with her usual brisk- 
ness. 

“Where, Seenie?” 

“Come to the back of the house for the trees 
are too thick here to get a good view.” They 
followed her in haste and behold! Four hun- 
dred feet above them was sighted the airship 
with moving graceful motion, tipping gently 
from side to side, falling and rising over aerial 
hills and vales, pouring itself through space as 
a stream seeking its channel. 

“Hi, Sam’l, look up there! See the airship 
that you’ll ride ’bout in some day, ain’t it a 
wonder now — ain’t it purty an’ goin’ like the 

wind burnin’. My ! I’d like might’ly to 

be in it.” Uncle Sam was very much excited 
and talked away while the others only stared 
above them seeming awed by this spectacle in 
the heavens, a new marvel of man’s genius. 

“Sakes alive ! Look at the cows an’ chickens 
how scared they be,” said Seenie, “runnin’ back 
an’ forth ’s if it was a comet come to earth. 
Guess they think it’s a big hawk buzzin’ ’bout 
tryin’ to carry ’em off. See that sparrow hawk 
[i43] 


UNCLE SAM 

that’s fell to the ground an’ the bird it had ’s 
got away.” 

“Seenie, don’t I wisht I could ride through 
space like that man’s doin’ an’ never has to git 
home for dinner. Well, it looks ’s man ’d 
never stop tryin’ to do big stunts. I’ve seen the 
longest run that’s been made yit, an’ Sam’l c’n 
say in after years that he was here, too. That 
boy knows what we’re talkin’ bout, don’t you? 
Jest the first chanct he an’ me gits we’re goin’ 
ridin’ in one of them. I’d have been proud to 
’ve had Sam’l been the first one to make it 
but then he was too little — an’ there may be 
sunthin’ left for him to do. But what is ’t? 
They’ve climbed clean to the top o’ the North 
Pole an’ it’s all ice an’ I dunno what’s left for 
Sam’l.” 

“He’ll find ’nough to ’muse hisself I reckons 
’thout your sighin’ over him. Folks thought 
things was all done ’fore you was born but 
there ain’t been no settin’ down time yit.” 

Richard’s love making had been interrupted 
and he found no other opportunity to speak of 
the subject before he bade Vallie good-bye, say- 
ing as a parting word: “Don’t forget what I 
told you and be ready to receive my candidate.” 

Of this weighty question she gave no heed 
during his absence and while he was passing the 
hot days in arduous employment endeavoring 
to find the right drama, she thought only of the 
[i44] 


UNCLE SAM 

opportunity afforded to appear before the foot- 
lights. Richard had thrown himself heart and 
soul into this venture to put Miss Saylor on the 
stage and he would devote many hours which 
his father would have called wasted, for the 
older man would much prefer investing in 
stocks to getting a stock company in line. There 
was none of the son’s temperament in the pros- 
perous business man who found little pleasure 
in dramatic performances. 

Summer twilight was falling across the old 
farm house when Richard appeared upon the 
veranda in his unconventional manner. 

“Again you’ve come.” 

“Yes, Vallie, and I hope it will be many more 
times. How’s everybody? I hope less tragedy 
reigns in the house — that Lavinia and Teresa 
are more amiable and that all are well.” 

“Oh, how about the play — I know you have 
one from your face — what do I see in your 
face?” 

“I have the play and now we must find the 
players. Suppose we go and call up the troupe 
and I’ll read it aloud to-night and assign the 
parts.” 

“I’ll go with you in the buggy and see the 
different members of the great dramatic club. 
You see this is very exciting here for nothing so 
interesting has ever happened before.” 

How very bewitchingly pretty she looked as 
[i45] 


UNCLE SAM 


they drove through the village roads and he 
could not help speaking of what was in his 
heart, but there was something else in his mind 
that he must not talk about — now. No, he 
wanted her to enjoy the play and afterwards he 
would unburden that which oppressed him. 
Enough now to look into her eyes and hear her 
rippling laughter and the chatter of her nimble 
little tongue which could scarce tell of her 
thoughts. 

‘‘I wish that we, too, might drive on for- 
ever, Vallie, not thinking of the morrow or of 
anything except that we would always be to- 
gether and it would be eternal bliss to have you 
always with me — always.” There was a sad- 
ness in his eyes had she looked deep for it but 
she was so gay and thought of nothing but the 
play and the role that she would take. He was 
glad that she had made arrangements for all to 
take part and he had a cast that embraced their 
own circle. 

“Tell me about it, Richard?” 

“There is an old bachelor and two old maid 
sisters and a lovely girl and a foolish man who 
loved her even as you and I, sweetheart, and 
yet his cold-hearted old dad wouldn’t hear of 
their marrying. Yet he continues to love her, 
even as I would do, sweetheart, and she loves 
him.” 

“Delightful! I know that it will be too 
[146I 


UNCLE SAM 


grand for anything!” Vallie had not passed 
that first youth when enthusiasm knows no 
bounds for she was young in every way. Soon 
enough she would begin to learn that there is 
another side where the thorns prick and the 
roses are all dead. It was the naivete that at- 
tracted him and he would not want to see its 
fragrant sweetness vanish. It seemed that she 
grew dearer every time they met and more de- 
sirable in his eyes. 

“I wonder if Rube will be a good actor?” 

“Oh, yes, in the part he will play I am sure 
he will enjoy it immensely. And so will the 
girls. What’s his name?” 

“Archibald Marmaduke. But I will not tell 
you any more.” 

As they arrived home she said: “Do you 
realize you were the first man to take me driv- 
ing?” 

“Indeed! I like breaking precedents.” 

A most interesting scene took place in the 
big living-room that night. Reflected in the 
large mirror that hung above the old rock fire- 
place was the gay company who were absorbed 
by the drama which Richard read in a way that 
made them seem like living characters for they 
were so true to life. Seenie enjoyed her part 
which was that of Mrs. York who was always 
ordering her husband around, and said she 
ought to do that part well as she had had much 
[H7] 


UNCLE SAM 


experience. Uncle Sam intently listened to all 
that was said by Old York who was father 
of the pretty girl Kaylis. Vallie could not speak 
for the rapture that possessed her at the 
thought of playing that role. Could girl or 
woman have been more temptingly portrayed? 
How witty and charming and bold in her love 
for the rich man’s son. The language flowed 
away into unbroken rhythm, now soft and se- 
ductive — now harsh and full of fury. Richard 
had never read better and he had never had 
better material, acting as wine to his well-modu- 
lated voice that rose and fell in musical ca- 
dence. There was depicted the joyousness of 
youth — the sorrows of the aged — the beauty of 
sacrifice and sweetness of love. 

When he had finished there was a silence 
which none seemed to care to break. “Wasn’t 
it beautiful?” 

Richard looked into her eyes that glowed 
with praise. “It reads so well I know it will 
play — grand! I didn’t know that the English 
language was so expressive — won’t it be glori- 
ous?” She displayed much business ability as 
she assisted Richard in assigning the parts and 
giving needed directions. Jenny was grinning 
from ear to ear for she told Seenie she would 
have to play the piano in the play. Oil, yes, 
her part had been neatly sandwiched In just 
[i«] 


UNCLE SAM 

natural as could be, as though it belonged 
there. 

“One part me an’ Jenny’ll do well — when she 
gits piany struck. Folks laugh at the idee of 
our gittin’ up a play but we’ll show ’em, an’ 
when they see the new church carpet guess 
they’ll have no more than praise to say of our 
work. It’ll be a sight o’ work l’arnin’ all this 
talk. Sam, reckon we ain’t too old to put it 
through?” 

“Shucks, Seenie! I’ll have mine done fust 
one an’ helpin’ the rest. Alwus c’d ’member 
verse an’ this is near to ’t as I ever heard jest 
plain ord’nary talk for it runs so smooth like 
you c’n clip it off easy.” He was already memor- 
izing his part and the more he studied about 
Old York the keener his insight into the charac- 
ter became. It was as if he had come face to 
face with a man after his own heart, and per- 
haps had be been able to appreciate the fact, he 
had met himself in another’s clever guise. The 
hero was well selected for Uncle Sam could take 
the title role without a doubt. 

As Richard and Vallie stood beneath the 
stars after the others had departed at a late 
hour she said impressively: 

“I only wish I might read as you did to- 
night — and how fine your face was — not com- 
mon but so — nice. You seemed to feel it all 
so deeply. Did you?” 

[HQ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Partly. The scene between the father and 
son might have been a page from my own life 
for it made me very unhappy as it recalled — ” 

“Something unpleasant?” Her voice was 
anxious. 

“Yes, unusually so.” 

“I know that it concerns me, Richard. Tell 
me all.” 

“When I place the name of my candidate be- 
fore you I want you to fully understand what 
his position will be. He comes from a wealthy 
family who live within a magic circle, fettered 
about by their own gilded fortunes. But to 
some there is no class distinction. Your can- 
didate will stand alone in the world — from his 
own — clan — he will have only the woman he 
loves to be his guiding star. You know his 
many failings and faults — and they are not 
greater than the love he bears for you. A poor 
man in every sense of the word, but I believe 
that could you place in him the needed confi- 
dence he would make good.” All the bitter- 
ness which had been aroused within his heart as 
he talked to his father now tinged his words 
and she understood. Yet the sacrifice he would 
so proudly make for her own sake touched her 
deeply and she could not forget the tenderness 
in his voice nor the love-light in the sincere 
eyes. 

“I could not allow any man to break with his 

[150] 


UNCLE SAM 


family on my account. It would not be right 
when I know all the circumstances.” 

“It would not be honorable in me did I not 
tell you. But, Vallie, you do not love — you 
could not speak that way. I would come be- 
tween you and all those you loved most dearly.” 

“You will have to forget me — I do not love 
as you say.” She spoke slowly and decisively, 
for in the face of deep problems she could 
choose quickly. “You can see what it means 
to both of us. We would not be happy and you 
must think of your family — not yourself, for 
that is your first duty. Our environments have 
been so different — our tastes — our lives. I had 
better not enter into a pathway where is much 
danger. I will turn back before it is too — 
late!” 

“Ah, Vallie, by your words I gain some hope. 
Did you go on you might care for me?” 

“No, I will not marry you, Richard. My 
frankness will save you pain in the end though 
I know that it is unkind.” 

“I do not give up hope, Vallie, for I do not 
dare. With you out of my life it would indeed 
be bleak — and I now have no home. Father 
and I had bitter speech, for his unjust attitude 
stung me to the quick. I have thrown to the 
winds the anchor of my past life — I look the 
future boldly in the face, and now I have an 
opportunity of testing my manhood. Can I 
[i5i] 


UNCLE SAM 


meet what lies before me, for I cannot turn 
back? With you beside me I would have no 
fears but without you — only a wrecked ship 
tossed upon jagged reefs.” 


[152] 


CHAPTER X. 


LOVE NOT ALL. 

It was not long before they found that giving 
a play proved more than mere pleasure, for be- 
sides the work involved so many unlooked for 
complications arose to mar the social relations. 
Richard began to regret the venture before 
many rehearsals had taken place for he had 
assisted his rival. 

Vallie and Yeager were much together, and 
the association caused ill feeling with one other 
who was becoming more and more unwisely in- 
fatuated with Vallie’s lover. Belle Fletcher 
passed many miserable moments with this newly 
aroused passion beating away at friendship’s 
chain for she had ever loved her old friend. 

Vallie regretted what had come to pass, but 
knew she could do nothing to prevent Belle’s 
unhappiness. All were studying diligently, but 
the progress made was much slower than they 
had at first anticipated. Vallie was a great 
disappointment to herself and others — for she 
could not act as she wanted to, — as she had 
hoped to do. Why was it when she was alone 
in her room she could carry out her role nicely, 
and before the others she failed utterly? Her 
[i53] 


UNCLE SAM 


hands and feet seemed so large and her tongue 
was glued to the roof of her mouth while her 
gestures were awkward to a degree that embar- 
rassed her greatly. She had committed her 
lines before a week had passed and knew her 
positions yet she could not forget herself. She 
was not Kaylis but Vallie Saylor trying to say 
off a part like a parrot. Uncle Sam acquitted 
himself with honor from the first and his wife 
was a close second for he would insist that she 
rehearse with him at the most inopportune mo- 
ments yet much practice had made perfect. The 
girls were not averse to going over their ludi- 
crous situations with Archibald and the more 
he saw of the sisters the more undecided he be- 
came as to which should be his choice. He was 
firmly decided that it would be either Teresa 
or Lavinia — but which? 

Yeager was much interested in the play and 
he had his reasons, for could he not watch his 
interests at close range? What better op- 
portunity could have afforded than this close 
intimacy in whose affairs he was concerned. 
He read aright that for some new reason the 
relations between Richard and Vallie had been 
widened. Why was it that she seemed to pre- 
fer his society? There was no doubt about the 
other’s sentiments. His jealous nature kept 
him actively roused by the slightest cause, yet 
[ 154 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


Vallie did not seem to heed his unrest and deep 
devotion. 

Richard was most depressed as in the days 
that passed he found no change in Vallie’s 
heart. He could not decide whether this cold- 
ness arose from the fact that she believed it 
her duty to be indifferent; or was it because 
she did not care for him? He began to regret 
that he had been so candid about family affairs 
for then things might have turned out better. 
Yeager was clearly in the coveted place — and 
what could he do ? 

One evening after rehearsal he loitered later 
than usual, and sitting at her feet upon an old 
fashioned stool, he broke forth with all the pas- 
sion of his unhappy mood : 

“Now, Vallie, don’t turn away, for I’m going 
to make love to you. Do you realize that this 
is something I’ve never done — yet. I don’t 
know much about it, but I have been watching 
Yeager do it on the stage, and let me repeat 
what he said to you so prettily.” 

“Richard, I am not in a mood for nonsense 
— to-night.” 

“So you call my making love to you nonsense. 
I like that. I shall not be frightened away. 
Eyes that hold a ” 

“Don’t, please.” There were tears in her 
eyes. 

[ 155 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Wh — y, is this the treasure he told about? 
Pearls, to be sure?” 

“Don’t be foolish. Suppose you were very 
unhappy — would you want some one to laugh 
at you in heartless fashion?” 

“I am, and you don’t care. Here I have been 
eating my heart out for love of you and you 
give me no word of hope.” 

“You know it is quite impossible. And alto- 
gether we are a very miserable troupe and I 
wish that I had never had dramatic ambitions. 
Why, it’s almost laughable, it is so tragic. You 
want to marry me and I refuse for your fam- 
ily would never agree to such a union and I 
can’t ever love anyway even if they did. Mr. 
Yeager likes somebody ” 

“I wonder who?” 

“And she doesn’t like him.” 

“Are you very sure?” 

“I think — so. Belle is dying of unrequited 
affection and poor Walt Dean has no hope of 
winning her heart. Isn’t he a fine fellow, too? 
Why will women be so blind always taking the 
wrong course when a better way is so appa- 
rent?” 

“You are speaking for yourself, I judge?” 

“No — though it might apply. I was think- 
ing about my friend Belle who is making her- 
self miserable. Of course it is quite apparent 
to every one that she is madly in love with Ros- 
[ 156 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


coe Yeager and it was very unfortunate for her 
that she has taken part in the play as it has but 
aggravated a very bad case.” 

“Love does many strange things and you 
cannot always blame people for this lack of wis- 
dom. Look at me. Was I not just as foolish 
as your friend? but I am paying the price of 
my folly even as she is.” 

“It is quite different with a man. Can’t you 
make or unmake your affairs largely? You 
might persuade me into marrying you while 
Belle is powerless to do the same.” 

“Yes, I might, but I do not seem to be suc- 
ceeding very well.” His tone was very hope- 
less. 

“Why a woman forgets self so far as to love 
a man who doesn’t even care for her is beyond 
my comprehension and I have no sympathy with 
her. I should think her pride would prevent 
her entertaining such a sentiment. Why should 
one cry for the moon?” 

“That is what I am at present doing and 
yet I would not cease for all the practical side 
of the question.” 

“If things should be adjusted rightly you and 
I would be happy lovers, Belle and Roscoe ene- 
mies, while Walt Dean would win her heart. 
Your family should be agreeable to our union 
and then we’d all live happy ever after, as in 
[ 157 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

the good old story book days.” He sighed 
deeply. 

“Vallie, I know that I have no right to want 
you for I am not the man that you should 
marry. I lack the qualities that make for 
worldly success and — you are very ambitious. 
I don’t find the incentive to make me push 
ahead. If you married me you might always 
regret it and I might do so on your account. 
Now, Roscoe Yeager is far more of a success 
than I am. He takes that active part in the 
world’s affairs that would naturally appeal to 
a woman of your temperament. How keenly 
he is working now in your behalf and against 
your enemy. He has the fighting blood that 
rides dauntless over obstacles. He has a pur- 
pose and does not forget it for a day. He 
knows what he wants and turns neither to left 
nor right, while I vacillate about like a weather 
vane, powerless to make my own destiny. 
Yeager wants to marry you and shall I give 
you to him?” He studied her thoughtfully as 
though it were a big issue in his mind. “He 
will never love you as I will for he is not the 
type of man who finds a woman necessary to his 
life. But sometimes a woman receives less by 
being greatly loved; more by being loved less. 
A man’s love does not constitute happy mar- 
riage, often the reverse. Deep love in a man’s 
heart has weighted down many a woman’s life. 

[ 153 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


I don’t believe any man has the right to con- 
quer over a woman’s strong opposition, unless 
he feels sure that he can make good. And can 
I honestly feel that way? If I ever accom- 
plish anything you will be the incentive — but 
can even you rouse me to action? I know that 
you would not tolerate a laggard yet that spirit 
within you might in the end disrupt our rela- 
tions. Greatly as I love yet how far would 
this influence my life?” 

“No, I will never be contented with: ‘A loaf 
of bread, a jug of wine, and Thou beside me 
singing in the wilderness.’ ” 

“What would suit me. I enjoy every mo- 
ment, but they must not be full of business 
cares. I like the life of a care-free boy contin- 
ued into manhood. I want to spend the hours 
in fishing and hunting — I like to lie upon the 
river bank and count the stars and study them 
and I see so much beauty in the great forests. 
I like to watch the birds and how I love the sea. 
I would like to spend life on the great deep. 
I like to go in the mines and watch the lives of 
those who dwell underground. I like to study 
the rocks and various peoples. Then to sing — 
to play — to read. Oh, how much there is to 
enjoy and I have the full capacity of apprecia- 
tion — and to make love.” 

“In fact, to do everything but — work.” 

[i59] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Yes, little girl, you know me, I see. I like 
to play but not to work.” 

“Oh, there is so much to do. Don’t you ever 
feel that you want to create something — to 
produce some great work that will live?” 

“Oh, I have those rash moments at times. I 
think of turning myself loose and slinging the 
ink and setting the world afire by my genius. 
But I go and gaze at the rows of marked-down 
books and return to sage retirement. Books 
that would live would not be of use to modern 
publishers and posterity doesn’t pay the checks. 
If you write you have to turn on the hysterical 
action that bores me. Books of to-day will not 
be tolerated on the book shelves of the future 
for the most part.” 

“But there is more to do than write books. 
Don’t you ever feel as though you would like to 
enter into the political arena? If I were a 
man that would be my ambition.” She looked 
at him like a judge about to pass sentence, and 
he gave his whimsical smile as he drawled: 

“Politics? Well, what do you gain after all 
by rubbing noses with various political bosses? 
If there was anything worth fighting for in the 
game I might try, but if you try to help the peo- 
ple, for the most part they are against you. I 
lack the combative elements that would make 
me a success in that line — and I haven’t the pa- 
[160] 


UNCLE SAM 


tience with those who run after false gods and 
fail to see the truth. Next?” 

“Let me see. There are so many business 
interests one can enter, and I would like nothing 
better than being a part of the vast commercial 
life.” 

“If one makes it is but taking from his neigh- 
bor. The more I accumulate the less some one 
else has. What satisfaction is that to me? I 
could not be like my father. When others go 
under he thinks only of his own good fortune. 
And yet can I blame him? No, indeed. It’s 
the system.” 

“Dear me! You are quite impossible, Rich- 
ard. I give you up as hopeless.” She looked 
vanquished and he patted her white hand as he 
said soothingly: 

“Poor little girl. I know that I am a decided 
failure and even you may not make anything 
from the wreck of years. No doubt I had abil- 
ity in some particular line had it been properly 
developed. I have mechanical skill and sup- 
pose I should have been a great inventor. I 
like my profession best of all and it may yet 
be my salvation. The life has more freedom 
than many others and — but where are we go- 
ing? Have we found what we started out to 
seek?” She was too fascinating in this serious 
business role and he wanted to take her in 
[161] 


UNCLE SAM 


his arms and drop all the perplexities and 
doubts that seemed to assail. 

“Then make the most of your chance. You 
have the greatest opportunities. Why don’t 
you build a Subway or something equally big so 
that I might be proud that you had once loved 
me?” 

“What pleasure would that be to me? Oh, 
yes, that recalls me to what was under discus- 
sion. If I shall give you over to my rival?” 

“I seem to have nothing to say as to how I 
will be disposed of. Am I helpless in the hands 
of others?” 

“Quite so. And the more I think about you, 
I am forced to the conclusion that only a bold, 
unconventional fellow like myself would ever 
find that little heart hidden in its impregnable 
fortress. But the vulnerable spot is there — and 
I will make true aim? Beware! Shall we give 
you to Roscoe Yeager?” The very thought of 
such a possibility fired his blood now until his 
mood was reckless-daring in the extreme. “You 
hold such a power over me that I am bereft of 
sense and only sight of you fills my eyes. How 
can I talk about work when I have you to look 
upon — drink deeply of those sweet eyes and 
maddening lips — shall I kiss you? then do not 
look at me in that tantalizing manner for you 
will be punished.” 

“Dick — please be good. I only wished you 
[162] 


UNCLE SAM 


liked to do other things as well as make love.” 

“I am a success in that line. But you must 
not be timid-hearted if you want anything. Now 
all your lovers can look well to their guns. I 
have been thinking quite a lot as we’ve talked 
and one thing certain : I have to have you, little 
girl. I know that I am not fit to tie your shoe- 
string but I don’t care. I will win you — and 
then I may do other stunts that will surprise 
you. I would be so puffed up with pride that 
I would feel as though I might conquer the 
earth. But it is useless to talk. Appeal to one 
whose veins run cold as ice — whose heart is a 
stone — you would measure love with unbeating 
heart. I don’t even want your love, wouldn’t 
ask for it as there isn’t any I’ve concluded. I 
want only you — I need you for you satisfy that 
hungriness that has ever made me a wanderer. 
Now for the first time I am content, the crav- 
ing for companionship is satisfied. Were you 
not so heartless I might tell you what your 
sweet face means to me — or are you in love 
with some one else who will never have you?” 

“I am very miserable and that is all I know 
about myself.” The thought that he was so 
devoted — willing to sacrifice family for her 
sake — touched her deeply and his great enthu- 
siasm for the moment aroused within her feel- 
ings she could not understand. 

“You are ‘Sentimental Tommy,’ and I can- 

[163] 


UNCLE SAM 

not read the books for some reason without 
feeling blue.” 

“Don’t be blue, for what’s the use? We’ll 
have to do as Uncle Sam says is the best policy 
• — riding the joy wave. I’d rather have him 
for a father-in-law than any one I could pick 
out, and since neither of us have ever yet had 
our ‘chanct’ we may throw our luck together 
and see what happens. Bless his innocent un- 
worldly soul! If we were all imbued with his 
simplicity, faith, and generosity the Golden 
Rule would rule in fact. I love him, Vallie, and 
only wish there were more like him, so there is 
a bond between us, you see.” 

“Isn’t he a dear? He’s always been so good 
to me.” 

“I am going to ask him to help me out in — 
my courting.” 

“Indeed!” 

“I will tell him all the difficulties and ask his 
advice in the matter. Shall I?” 

“If you wish. But he cannot remove the 
obstacles — they are too big.” 

“Vallie, Vallie, nothing is too big for love to 
remove. Now if you are willing — I would 
have my own sweet will. I don’t care though 
if you hate me, but your indifference I will not 
endure. And I want to exact from your lips a 
little promise.” 

“What?” 

[164] 


UNCLE SAM 


“That you will not become engaged to any- 
body before the play. Will you do this for 
me?” ' 

“It is easy to accede to your wishes since that 
is the last thing in my thoughts. I promise.” 
She held out her hand and he pressed his lips 
upon it. 

“Now that it is sealed it cannot be broken.” 

“I shall remember.” 

After he had gone she wept bitterly and she 
could find no reason for her tears. There was 
such tenderness in Richard’s devotion that it 
softened her heart perceptibly, yet she did not 
see her way any clearer than before. 

What would she do with him? What was 
to be the end? 

Uncle Sam studied over the question Rich- 
ard had put to him in his characteristic style, 
then removing his pipe he said with a twitch of 
his mouth : 

“It’s hard to meddle in folk’s love troubles, 
but there ain’t any I’d ruther have a hand in 
patchin’ up if ’twas so it c’d be done. I reckon 
you’ll have to wait an’ see what the wind ’ll 
bring. Vallie’s got a wise little head on her 
an’ one of the best hearts in all the worl’, but 
she’s thinkin’ like me — it ain’t right to marry 
you with your pa ’g’inst it. Now I looks at it 
in this way: 

“Why should she marry in a family that 

[165] 


UNCLE SAM 

don’t want her when a heap ’d be mighty proud 
to have her?” 

“Because she is marryin’ me an’ not the 
family. I don’t see what great difference after 
all it would make. We should live our own 
lives — I should take good care of her.” 

“I know that, my boy. I ain’t ’feard to give 
her — my baby — into your hands, but love ain’t 
all. You has your own to think ’bout an’ Vai- 
lie has hers. I liked you a heap but things 
don’t alwus turn out ’s we’d hoped for.” 

“What is going to become of me?” The 
hopelessness in his face made the old man smile 
quaintly. 

“You was doing all right ’fore you knowed 
us, an’ can’t you make out ’thout Vallie better 
*n me?” A wistfulness was in his voice and 
Richard understood what a sacrifice would be 
made when he gave up his daughter. The bond 
between these two loving hearts was strong as 
life itself. 

“Cannot make out without her, Uncle Sam; 
now that I have known her and you I don’t 
want to go back to the old life with all its 
emptiness. Why, what would I do with myself? 
I feel that it would be quite impossible not to 
be making plans which concerned us all.** It 
was this wholesome spirit that appealed to 
Uncle Sam; his way of including them all as 
necessary to his happiness. With the possibil- 
[ 166] 


UNCLE SAM 


ity of failure to the union he had secretly de- 
sired he was downcast, but his pride would not 
allow him to tell the depth of his disappoint- 
ment. Then he had grave misgivings as to 
Vallie. He knew her nature and at times 
doubted if she would ever care very much for 
any one but him. She seemed to be indifferent 
to the thought of marriage. 

“Girls ’s can don’t want to wed, an’ them 
that can’t are aimin’ to, so ’t goes the worl’ 
over.” 

“So it seems. But a man feels as I do 
but once in a lifetime and you know what it 
means to me.” 

“Forgit!” said his companion, stroking his 
beard and gazing at the sun sinking into the 
distant meadowland. 

“As well forget how to breathe.” 

“We c’n do a heap o’ things if we has to. 
Vallie ’d never want your folks to fall out with 
you on her ’count. A father ain’t no right to 
cut off his son jest ’cause he ’s marryin’ a good 
woman. He should have no right, but jestice 
ain’t alwus done in the worl’. Flesh o’ his flesh 
he should remember that he’s guardian over 
your earthly welfare till he gives you over to 
a higher power. He’s give life to one he wants 
to rob of all joy in that life — sap the best feel- 
in’ from his heart that God ever give man. I 
ain’t feelin’ good myself — I liked you — liked 
[167] 


] UNCLE SAM 

your ma. She’s a fine woman ’s ever was born. 
Talked to her yit?” 

“No, I couldn’t after what father said. I 
was too sore.” 

“Wa’al, wa’al.” Then he puffed away con- 
templatively. 

“To win a woman you has to keep peggin’ 
an’ hittin’ harder blows ’n the other feller. I’ve 
seen sich cases that was hopeless like,” screw- 
ing up his eye suggestively — “an’ this way they 
come out all right in the end. My Lissie was 
not favorin’ me at the start an’ you knows I 
wisht she’d never give in. Vallie’s ma was de- 
servin’ of better. She was so purty an’ sweet 
an’ c’d have had the best an’ I never felt right 
by takin’ her. I ain’t never done well by any 
of them. It’s a turrible thing to know that 
you’ve been a plum failur’, an’ that’s me. They 
have all loved me a heap an’ that makes me 
feel worse. But I was made ’s I was an’ am I 
to blame by not doin’ better by those I loved? 
’S a feller to blame for what he is? I should 
have done well by the girls an’ their ma. But 
seems like my dish ’s alwus upside-down when 
it rains buttermilk.” 

“I think he has to follow out his own destiny 
and I do not think that we are responsible for 
the tendencies within us for good or evil. But 
you are not a failure, far from it.” Richard was 
touched by the other’s regrets. 

[168] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Yes, I feel that I’ve been that an’ nuthin’ 
else an’ it’s hard at my age for I had sich big 
dreams all my life, but years have crept by an’ 
now I’m an old white-haired man an’ I ain’t 
done my stint. Must ’a’ been sunthin’ I was 
cut out for, must ’a been some chair that fit 
me, must ’a’ been a better way, but I’ve missed 
it — I’ve missed it in my blindness.” It was so 
unusual for Uncle Sam to slip off the joy wave 
that the younger man was surprised as well as 
pained, for he divined that their conversation 
had submerged him in the depths. 

“You’ve filled a bigger place than you will 
ever know, Mr. Saylor — with your own — and 
others.” But words failed to rouse him 
from the dejection that had settled upon his 
kindly face. Richard, as he saw the old visage 
deep-lined with benevolence, justice and mercy, 
wished that he might paint it in living colors 
upon an enduring canvas. 

He felt he could not leave him in this mood 
and touched upon other matters without receiv- 
ing any assistance. 

“I believe that you will yet realize your 
dreams about the gorge, and you seem to have 
a good chance for winning your suit. From 
what I hear things are coming your way.” 

“It’s hard to git a notion in your head an’ 
then find it’s not to be. Oh, young man, I’ve 
had so many an’ they’ve all been bubbles burst- 
[169] 


UNCLE SAM 


in’ sooner or late. It’s kinder sad. I has the 
best one now but I won’t think ’bout it for it’ll 
go like the rest. I ain’t talked to no one yit 
an’ I won’t till I know more ’bout that Adams 
feller an’ what he’s goin’ to do with me. Mr. 
Yeager ’s done fine by me, workin’ ’s hard ’s 
he can, an’ I’ve got an idee what pay he’d like 
but it’ll not be me to say the word. He’s all 
right I reckon, ’pears to be fine feller an’ ’ll 
git ’long for he’s sharp ’s a whip. I’m goin’ 
up to the city with him soon.” 

These little trips had become quite frequent 
for the law-suit gave him an excuse, but they 
would have been surprised if they had known 
the way his time was occupied. He passed 
many warm hours on the East side and the 
Ghetto was becoming a familiar place to him, 
and the little boys became acquainted with the 
white-haired old man who would enter into 
their play, and would promise them all sorts of 
toys if they would promise not to swear and 
cheat at marbles. He decided the many kites 
and boats he had laid away for Sam’l’s use 
might give more pleasure to these little fellows 
whose starved lives appealed to his tender 
heart. His hours became busily occupied, whit- 
tling from birch and sumac small canoes that 
would be launched forth in gutters. 

At times he almost forgot Sam’s education, 
so engrossed was his mind in the waifs who 
[170] 


UNCLE SAM 


fought their childish battles in tenement rows 
and dark allies of the big city. On certain oc- 
casions you might have seen Uncle Sam sur- 
rounded by a group of children of all nation- 
alities eagerly listening to his exciting stories 
which he told in language simple as a child. It 
was wonderful how he attached himself to their 
sympathies, how they believed in him implicitly; 
willing to obey his slightest word, and he was 
comrade in the fullest sense, keenly enjoying all 
their play and entering into the joys of 
boyhood. He won their confidences in his sim- 
ple friendliness by distributing his pocketful of 
peppermints, and he liked to watch them scram- 
ble good-naturedly for them. How he would 
like to come at Christmas time and play Santa 
Claus. 

One other would have enjoyed these excur- 
sions into slumland as much as did the old man. 
Richard in his boyish heart was as keenly alive 
to the sentiments that inspired Uncle Sam, and 
the two might well have put their heads to- 
gether to devise ways and means for brighten- 
ing the sombre lives of the little unhappy vic- 
tims that had to remain all summer in the noisy 
and heated city. Whenever Uncle Sam came 
home he longed to bring some of the boys with 
him to give them a taste of the sweet-smelling 
meadows where they could roll and tumble to 
their heart’s content. What would Seenie have 
[I7i] 


UNCLE SAM 


said? This question always put a quietus upon 
his desires. But the farm was so large and how 
much more interesting life would be if he had 
the boys for companions. 

He could scare wait for the outcome of the 
law-suit, for when he was in position to be in- 
dependent — then would he put into execution 
the biggest plan of all. 


CHAPTER XI. 


COURTING. 

“I THINK we are doing very well in the 
play.” Mrs. Parish came to breakfast smiling 
as usual, arrayed in a dainty white sack edged 
with embroidery flouncing, and there rested up- 
on her puffs and curls a bit of lace which was 
most becoming. 

“I’m much takin’ with it, Lydia, an’ Seenie 
an’ me ’s good ’s any of the bunch.” Uncle 
Sam munched his toast complacently. 

“Teresa and Lavinia are doing so nicely and 
I believe that Mr. Simpkins cannot be ex- 
celled.” 

“Rube’s actin’ true to his feelin’s, for he can’t 
seem to know which to take.” Uncle Sam’s 
blunt speech caused his guest to look shocked 
for the moment at this suggestion. 

“Marry one of my daughters. It’s quite ab- 
surd. Mr. Simpkins is a nice gentleman, but I 
would not consider him a moment for a son- 
in-law. With her charms Teresa should make 
a brilliant match in time, and Lavinia cares 
very little for gentlemen, and I believe would 
prefer to remain single. I should have mar- 
[i73] 


UNCLE SAM 


ried, and I would have done so had not the 
girls objected and I gave up a title.” 

“Now you’re gittin’ even with ’em for spoil- 
in’ your fun.” Uncle Sam was amused by her 
frank confession. 

“I heeded their wishes and gave up the Judge 
but regretted it since ” 

“An’ would try it ag’in if you had the 
chanct?” 

“Yes, I would marry if a suitable offer was 
made me.” This remark caused the greatest 
surprise, and she continued blandly as she en- 
joyed her coffee and hot rolls: 

“The girls need a father to look after their 
welfare. It would be better in the end than to 
have them marry for they might be unhappy.” 

“Would you like Rube, Lydia?” 

“Indeed, no ! I would not consider anything 
but title, of course.” 

“What! Wantin’ a furrien Juke or King, 
mayhap?” 

“How absurd, Sam. I was thinking of a 
title that is not so grand, perhaps, but of more 
service to humanity. Now a physician does 
much good in the world by his title ” 

“Lydia ! You ain’t drivin’ at the notion that 
you’re wantin’ old Doc?” 

“He seems to be very nice and he has a title. 
He has been of great service to me in this legal 
affair and I regard him highly. I think the in- 
[i74] 


UNCLE SAM 

formation he gave Mr. Yeager concerning the 
last interview he had with my husband will be 
of great value to us. He told me that he would 
do anything to see us get justice as he always 
wanted to rip Adams up the back, which is the 
doctor’s own forceful expression. He has of- 
fered me all assistance possible for a gentleman 
to bestow upon a lady who has been wronged.” 

“Doc.’s all right for a friend, but not ’s a hus- 
ban’. He’s got too much temper an’ I wouldn’t 
want no woman folks o’ mine to come under it. 
Lydia, there’s two poor females lyin’ out yon- 
der in the churchyard ’cause of that naggin’ 
way o’ his. There ain’t a better doctor, but he’ll 
git mad spite o’ anythin’ an’ then watch 
out.” 

“I would never have thought that of the doc- 
tor for he has such beautiful manners, and a 
temper is all right. I would not admire a man 
without any character.” 

“If temper’s character, then Doc.’s got a 
heap of ’t; an’ ’s for his fine show of palaver, 
you knows that folks that are extra sweet or 
gran’ often has the claws too. Dunno why this 
is, but it’s a fact. Them what go ’long with 
ord’nary ways are more truer an’ better for 
everyday wear. With the Doc. it’s ‘Damn you, 
Darlin’, an’ no mistake, smilin’ before while he 
kicks behind.” 

“Why, Lydia, it was a shame the way he 
[ 175 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


treated his fust wife, Becky, an’ she was the 
sweetest woman ever lived. Me an’ her was 
fast friends, an’ how she did love that man — 
to the very end. She waited on him hand an’ 
foot, often settin’ up late for him to come home 
an’ then he’d fling things at her an’ cut up if he 
took a notion.” 

“I would never be a slave for any man.” She 
spoke in her decisive way. 

“You wait on your girls, an’ you’d do the 
same for a man I reckons.” 

“No, indeed; I never waited upon their fa- 
ther, and he never gave me a cross word.” 

“I know that or you wouldn’t think a tem- 
pery man ’d be nice to live with. Never ’s been 
burnt ’s the trouble.” 

“I could live in peace with the doctor for I 
know how to manage a man like that. Tell me 
about his. second wife for I am greatly inter- 
ested.” 

“Mary was ’s mis’rable ’s a woman c’d well 
be. He’d come home an’ say dre’dful things to 
her, an’ then go ’way an’ come home ag’in 
’spectin’ to find her all smiles when she’d be 
cryin’ out her eyes, an’ then he’d git mad. The 
poor thing couldn’t speak for her heart achin’, 
an’ he wanted her to be chirpy for he’d be gay 
an’ wantin’ his fun.” 

“Why, I see the trouble. She failed to study 
his moods. To be a successful wife you must 
[176] 


UNCLE SAM 


ever be ready to enter into a man’s humor 
whether gay or the opposite.” 

“Huh! A body’d be purty smart to keep up 
with his moods. He c’n be smilin’ one minut’ 
an’ the next slingin’ the pots an’ kettles at your 
head — um — m.” Mrs. Parish ate her waffles. 

“I would enjoy the task of managing such a 
man, for it would be amusing living with such 
a person for life wouldn’t be ordinary in the 
least. I should laugh when he expected me to 
wait upon him, calling for his gloves as he 
stood at the gate. I wouldn’t pay any atten- 
tion to him for I think the women are to blame 
for making such men.” 

Seenie shook her head and Lavinia spoke up 
excitedly : 

“Mother dear, you are far too frail to man- 
age such a beast, for that is what I would call 
him. I could tame the doctor since he needs an 
indifferent woman and I am that type. I should 
not be afraid of him for I should use the poker 
upon him did he annoy me.” 

“That method would never do, Lavinia, it 
would only result in your being injured, for 
when men have destructive tempers they are 
dangerous. You are too independent and quick 
tempered to marry a man like the doctor — I 
would never allow it.” Teresa had waddled 
into breakfast and hearing the drift of the con- 
versation gave her opinion: 

[i77] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Mother and Lavinia are not marrying 
women — they are too self-centered, and a man 
does not like that. I could manage the doctor 
but I would be very sweet to him, which would 
be better than Lavinia’s and mother’s way.” 

“The hull three of you couldn’t hold your 
end to his.” Uncle Sam was enjoying the dis- 
cussion heartily and wondered what the doctor 
would have thought had he been present. 

“I think we’ll have to make this a scene in 
the play.” 

“It might do, Vallie, but nevertheless I shall 
cultivate the doctor for I think I have neglected 
my duty too long as it is. I should have liked 
that Judge and his title so much, but it is too 
late now. You see if we had a doctor in the 
family there would be no bills to pay, which is 
quite an item of expense. Do you think that 
I am too old to marry? Would the doctor 
fancy a woman of my style?” 

“Your style is mighty good, Lydia, but you’ll 
never go into that marriage business with my 
consent. You’d wish for that jedge to git you 
out’n it ’fore many days had come to pass,” 
warned her sister-in-law impressively. 

“Wh — y, the doctor used to git up at mid- 
night an’ take a wanderin’ spell goin’ over the 
hull house, pokin’ his nose into everythin,’ see- 
in’ if things was cleaned to suit him, hopin’ he’d 
find sunthin’ to stir up a fuss ’bout. Mary ’s 
[US] 


UNCLE SAM 

tol’ me many a time she’s been hauled out ’n 
bed from a soun’ sleep an’ made to go an’ scrub 
the kitchen floor or mebbe wash him up some 
clothes he took a notion to wear an’ wouldn’t 
wait on no washday.” 

Mrs. Parish laughed with her usual dignity. 
“Now, how I should enjoy that and life would 
not be monotonous, would it? You see I don’t 
see how I could wash and scrub as I have never 
learned how, and he would have the pleasant 
task of teaching me. I’m afraid after I had 
burned out the best of his linen by scorching he 
would decide to find a woman who could man- 
age better.” Again she laughed in her light- 
hearted way, displaying to advantage the dim- 
ple in the lower corner of her right cheek. 

“I am not in the least disturbed about the 
work, but is the doctor well supplied with 
worldly goods?” 

“He ort to be, havin’ pinched out ’n us for 
years an’ his wives never spent nuthin’. He was 
pertic’ler to see to that ” 

“Good news, for I believe that I will be the 
right one to enjoy his wealth. The girls need 
to have more opportunities for travel, and 
every move is an added expense.” 

“Mother, dear, you are not in earnest about 
making this very undesirable marriage with Dr. 
Briggs? I will never consent to it at your age. 

Im] 


UNCLE SAM 


I would sacrifice myself rather than see you do 
this for our sake.” 

“No, Teresa, you are far too charming to 
marry an old man. It would be the ‘Beauty 
and the Beast’ in your case. I will not live very 
long at the best and what does a few more 
years matter, for a mother must think of her 
own.” 

“Mother, you are not looking very well, and 
I think we had better return home.” 

“Perhaps I had better consult with the doc- 
tor,” replied her mother calmly, looking at La- 
vinia, who was as deeply concerned as her sis- 
ter. “You see, girls, I am not going to be 
spirited away when I find that it is quite easy to 
acquire money as well as title.” 

“Jest one thing I’d like to ast, Lydia, do the 
Doc. know anythin’ ’bout this plan of yours?” 

“No, indeed. That is quite unnecessary, 
Sam. But in time he will know, and, girls, re- 
member about the judge and how high he stands 
to-day, and do not try to interfere with this 
marriage.” 

“Say, folks, let’s help the thing ’long, for I’m 
that curious to see if Lydia c’n tame the doc- 
tor. If she do, then, Sam, put it into that ever- 
lastin’ book of yours.” 

“Sure I will, for that book don’t hold no 
trash an’ if Lydia finds the med’cine that cures 
[180] 


UNCLE SAM 


Doc. she should pass it on to other poor women 
who don’t know.” 

“Teresa, love, don’t you think that you had 
better have treatment for your liver trouble?” 

“Mother, I am feeling very well and I do 
not like Dr. Briggs, anyway. He looks at me 
in such a disagreeable manner and you remem- 
ber how rudely he treated me that day I was 
ill, telling me all I needed was to get up and 
go to work. No — in — deed, I do not like him.” 

“Lavinia, you have complained so much 
about your rheumatism and I know that he 
could help you. Shall I send for him?” 

“Thank you, mother dear, but I am better 
to-day.” Her daughters appeared very de- 
spondent, but her own spirits suffered no chill 
at their displeasure. 

“Seenie, I am glad the girls are feeling so 
well for I need the doctor myself. Will you 
send for him, Sam?” 

“I’m willin’,” replied Uncle Sam with a 
broad grin, “you are goin’ to work with a will, 
ain’t you, Lydia? Wa’al, ’f your coffee ain’t 
sweet ’nough stir it till it’s to your taste, an’ 
it bein’ title with you, hope you win.” 

By the time the doctor arrived they had 
placed the patient comfortably on the couch in 
the living-room, and he smiled with pleasure 
when he appeared in his brisk manner. The 
girls were present to try to distract him by their 
[181] 


UNCLE SAM 


charms, but toward them he was very brusque 
and told them in blunt speech that they must be 
very considerate of their mother to effect a 
speedy recovery. Teresa pouted and Lavinia 
glared at him but it was of no avail. This visit 
was speedily followed by others of greater 
length until the neighbors began to wonder 
which one of the girls was going to get the doc- 
tor. It never occurred to them the true state 
of affairs. The girls would tell Vallie their 
troubles, how they needed their mother, for 
who would now look after them? When he 
came he would order them from the room with 
the words of command that made them retreat 
in haste. It was always a private consultation 
he must have and these could end in but one way 
as they had now in their despair decided. Thus 
it was that the doctor began to exercise his au- 
thority over them. They wept and told her 
that he was coming between them forever- 
more. 

They were all interested when Lydia an- 
nounced that she had something of importance 
to tell them. 

“Lavinia, come and sit at my right, and Te- 
resa, you can sit at my left.” They both were 
very sulky for the doctor had kept them from 
their mother all the afternoon and they sur- 
mised what was coming by the happy look on 
her cheerful face. 

[182] 


UNCLE SAM 

“My little girls.” She looked at them fondly 
but they only scowled the more. 

“I don’t want to hear anything about it, 
mother,” objected Teresa quickly, withdrawing 
her fat hand, which Lydia had been patting 
gently. 

“I will not listen,” announced Lavinia stolid- 

ly- 

“Remember, dears, that I am sacrificing my- 
self for your sakes. Should I leave you now I 
can go in peace for you will be provided with a 
protector.” 

“We don’t want him,” they cried in unison. 

“You cannot be the best judge for your own 
interests. The doctor has honored me by ask- 
ing me to be his titled wife.” Absolute silence 
prevailed. She held out her hand and upon the 
third finger was an old-fashioned ring. “It is 
his gift, dears, worn by Mary and Rebecca, but 
he said it fit my finger the best.” They all 
smiled excepting her daughters who still made 
no sound. 

“Seenie, I think a quiet wedding would be 
proper, and we would like to have the ceremony 
performed in the reception room if you are 
agreeable.” 

“Course I am, but laws sakes alive! This 
comes ruther sudden like, and if there ain’t 
’nough irons in the fire ’s ’tis. But the more 
doin’ the merrier, an’ I’ll make you the finest 

[183] 


UNCLE SAM 

weddin’ cake goin’ for it’ll be a sad day for 
you.” 

“How nice that would be, and we could have 
some of the neighbors in to help enjoy the oc- 
casion.” 

“Mother! How heartless of you to talk in 
that way. You could at least appear to sympa- 
thize with us if you did not in your heart. You 
have failed grievously in your duty.” 

“Teresa, don’t you know that you will be 
much better off for you have been very much 
handicapped having no father in the last years. 
I know you will become accustomed to the idea 
soon, and look at it as I do.” 

“We shall never be reconciled to your 
marrying such a man. Had he been kind and 
gentle ” 

“Dear Lavinia, the doctor will always be 
good to me.” 

“He will never be nice to us,” complained 
Teresa. 

“You will not be with him much, so that need 
not distress you.” They looked at her in sur- 
prise. 

“I know that you do not like country life so 
that I will arrange for you to be with your Aunt 
Fannie if you wish.” 

“Shall we never see you, mother?” Lavinia’s 
tone was full of offended dignity. 

“The doctor and I plan to come into town 
[184] 


UNCLE SAM 

occasionally, and then you will have an oppor- 
tunity of spending a few days with us when you 
desire a little change.” 

“A few days!” tragically exclaimed Teresa 
and genuine grief was on her plump features. 

They fully realized that their mother had at 
last retired from active service, and with the 
thought came their one hope — Reuben Simp- 
kins. 

“Since you have deserted your daughter I 
will follow in your lead — I shall marry Mr. 
Simpkins,” pouted Teresa. 

“Never, Teresa, for he will marry me and 
no other.” They now entered into a lively dis- 
cussion which was cut short by the entrance of 
the person in question. 

“Mr. Simpkins,” said Teresa, holding out 
her hands to him with a childish expression in 
her blue eyes; “mother is leaving her little girl. 
She is going to marry Dr. Briggs and I am all 
alone — so lonely — so sad!” Before Rube could 
offer sympathy or realize the big surprise, La- 
vinia had stepped forward and was saying in 
a hard voice : 

“Mother is leaving me to face the world 
alone. She has never allowed us to marry and 
now we are left.” Poor Reuben did not know 
what to say for they seemed to depend entirely 
upon him in this hour of trial. He would have 
liked to marry one of the girls very much, but 

[185] 


UNCLE SAM 


when he had decided it would be Teresa, at 
once Lavinia seemed the more desirable and he 
was hopelessly at sea. He was very sympa- 
thetic and his big heart was filled with com- 
passion for the sisters who were really to be 
pitied, but which should he comfort?” 

“Mr. Simpkins, the girls have not placed me 
in a very good light, and I wish to tell you that 
I think it better for them to have a good fa- 
ther.” 

‘‘Only a horrid step-father!” complained Te- 
resa. 

“A disagreeable second father,” stated La- 
vinia coldly. 

“To have a father, who will shield them 
from the uncharitable world. I am growing 
old and I feel that it is my duty to enter again 
the sacred bonds of matrimony.” 

Uncle Sam sympathized with Mrs. Parish 
for she had always been a slave for years to the 
two selfish creatures who were so dependent 
upon her, but would she better herself in the 
end? and at the thought Uncle Sam and Seenie 
shook their heads gravely. It was the only bit 
of consolation her daughters had and they now 
begged her constantly to still remain under their 
devoted care. 

Lydia, however, did not seem to participate 
in the gloomy prophesies regarding the coming 
nuptials would only give her sweetest smile 
[186] 


UNCLE SAM 


when Bertram called. He seemed to be 
tamed, according to Seenie, though his man- 
ner never softened toward his future step- 
daughters. They dared not tell him all they 
wanted to for from beneath his shaggy brows 
he would pierce them with a look that would 
drive Teresa to tears and Lavinia to anger. 
Mrs. Parish decided that her black silk would 
be just right for a bridal gown. She was 
daily impressing upon Bertram the necessity of 
looking after her, and he was constantly be- 
stowing those little attentions which his former 
wives had not received. 

“It’s smooth sailin’ now, Lydia,” warned 
Seenie, “but you jest wait till after that knot’s 
tied. The worm’ll turn in a jiffy. But you jest 
throwed yourself at his head an’ no one c’n 
help you out, but you’ll be shed o’ your two 
babies an’ who c’d blame you for marryin’? 
It’s a case o’ ropin’ in, though, an’ you c’n eat 
your own mixin’.” 

Richard appeared one afternoon and found 
Vallie very busy in the kitchen preparatory to 
making cakes for the wedding. 

“I has to tie up the hair of them two women 
’cause their ma won’t pay no ’tendon to ’em 
now ’s she’s goin’ to git married.” Jenny liked 
to talk to Richard and he learned much news of 
the affairs of the farm from her glib tongue. 
Teresa now called fretfully from above: 

[187] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Jenny, I want some hot water, plenty of it 
and I’ll come down to the kitchen to take my 
bath.” 

Vallie objected but Teresa overruled as usual 
and the kitchen had to be given over to her de- 
spite the work that was in progress. 

“Richard, you can help pick these hickory 
nuts for I need them for the cakes I am 
going to make.” 

“Any command from such a sweet little girl 
shall be obeyed. How rosy she is to-day, I 
think I like you best in cap and apron.” 

“Jenny, dear, bring me another bucket of 
water.” Jenny went unwillingly, and before 
she could return Lavinia had ordered her to 
come braid her hair in old-fashioned double 
cross braids as mother had worn hers years be- 
fore. Then came another call from the kitchen 
for Jenny: 

“Please come and carry out this bucket of 
water.” Richard began to laugh, while Vallie 
moved about the room restlessly thinking of 
the baking yet to be done before night. 

“Another bucket of water please, Jenny.” 
Uncle Sam appeared and said he would go and 
get the biggest tub full if Teresa was taking a 
bath. Then Jenny was asked to carry out an- 
other bucket for her. This interesting perform- 
ance was kept up until Vallie’s patience was 
quite exhausted, and she knew what Seenie 
[188] 


UNCLE SAM 


would say when she returned from town at 
having things delayed in this unlooked-for man- 
ner. 

“Teresa, can’t you hurry, for I must get the 
oven heated for the cakes.” 

“Don’t disturb me, Vallie, for I am hurry- 
ing as fast as possible. Already I am in a ner- 
vous condition, and kindly have Jenny bring me 
some more water and remove it.” 

“Mr. Richard, she ain’t no more sense than 
a grasshopper, she ain’t. She jest washes her 
face an’ then she throws that out an’ gits cold, 
an’ then that goes after the hot; then she 
washes one arm an’ throws it out, hot an’ cold; 
then t’other arm, hot an’ cold, an’ out it goes; 
then she takes her back an’ after usin’ hot an’ 
cold both out it goes ; an’ ” 

“Jenny, I want more water! Don’t open the 
door but a crack — now you may hand it to me. 
Go away!” 

It was almost dusk before Teresa finally 
emerged from the kitchen and she welcomed 
Seenie who was tired after her shopping trip. 

“Vallie, where are the cakes I left you to 
bake? An’ ’f the fire ain’t plum out. Now I 
like this way of doin’.” 

“Teresa would have her bath and you know 
I could not hurry her.” 

“Laws sakes!” Seenie looked about the floor 
which was covered with an odd collection of 
[189] 


UNCLE SAM 


buckets, dish pans, and kettles of various sizes, 
which had been necessary for that bath with a 
very long “A”. Seenie was very angry and 
only the appearance of Richard on the scene at 
this interesting moment cooled her temper. 

“Now, ain’t you handy makin’ fires, Mr. 
Richard? Sam would take all day an’ then it 
wouldn’t burn much. I ain’t never been a hand 
to see a man ’roun’ ’bout woman’s work but 
they c’n be useful. Why, what a nice lot of 
nuts an’ I’ll git the batter ready in a jiffy for 
’em, an’ you c’n sample the fust one.” 

“I always did like the kitchen best.” He 
smiled at Vallie whose dimpled arms were deep 
in the flour. 

“Jinny, git me some water, if Teresa ’s left 
any in the well.” Richard had brought it in his 
quick manner. 

“If I had you ’bout, I’d git over the notion 
that a man ain’t no use ’cept to talk. Now, 
Sam, you needn’t come for we’re workin’ an’ 
you know that you never aim to do much in that 
line. He’ll rust out, not wear out, for he’d 
ruther see other folks flyin’ ’bout, an’ one thing 
sure, his brains’ll never be worked off.” 

“Seenie, I has to use the subjective mind 
while you uses the objective. I’ve been study- 
in’ this a heap o’ late an’ finds it’s good doc- 
trin’. We don’t ’sociate ’nough with the un- 
seen forces.” 

[190] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Bless me, Sam, ain’t it ’nough to keep up 
with the seen?” The next instant she had 
given a shriek that rang through the house: 
“Sam! Sam!” There was another shrill cry 
from Jenny, and Teresa coming in at the mo- 
ment almost fell in a faint at Richard’s feet. 

“Pshaw, folks! I’m ’shamed of you! What 
a fuss to make over nuthin’.” 

“I say, nuthin’ ! My heart’s heatin’ out o’ 
me! You may laugh at us but you’d ort to 
know I wasn’t lookin’ for no skel’ton in the 
closet.” 

“Wh — y, ain’t that where they keep ’em?” 

“Sam, what has you brought this here for an’ 
what you goin’ to do with it? Jest scared me 
to death ’cause ’twas dark an’ that thing grin- 
nin’ at me. I’ll not have it ’bout.” 

“Doc. give it to me for Sam’l to study bones 
with. I’m mighty proud of ’t an’ don’t you 
tech it, Seenie. Jinny, you look white yit — ha 
—ha!” 

“ F you didn’t live up in them subjective 
regions you’d have more common sense, Sam. 
Sam’l ain’t goin’ to see this old bone yard. It’s 
gittin’ to a purty pass when you has ter stare at 
a paper with a black spot on ’t by the hour to 
teach you concentratin’ your mind, an’ wantin’ 
me to do them foolish tricks, an’ now bringin’ 
this pesky thing in the house. I ain’t goin’ to 
try that paper biz no more for I thought up 

[191] 


UNCLE SAM 


what I wanted most ’fore I begun, an’ after 
a long spell I had what I didn’t want — a nasty 
splittin’ headache an’ ’f I didn’t see waves I 
dunno what ’twas. I ain’t wantin’ any more 
of that Yogis stuff in mine.” 

“You are too material, Seenie.” 

“What’d become of us if I wasn’t keepin’ my 
mind to earthly things.” 

“I’m glad I had that readin’ anyway for it 
made me mighty tickled to have him tell me 
that I’d be gran’dad of a genius. That’s Sam’l 
and no other he was speakin’ ‘bout.’ ” 

“Lands ! I’d have him anythin’ but that for 
what good are they, anyway? Ain’t they 
mostly folks what ain’t doin’ what others are 
waitin’ on ’em to do? You c’n take them 
genius away an’ give me the common sense man 
that jest ’s willin’ to plod day in an’ day out.” 

“Pshaw! Um — m! Plodders ain’t never 
set the world fire yet an’ never will. They 
never do git anywheres. Anyhow, Sam’l ’ll 
never be one an’ I’m glad on ’t.” 

“No, after you’ve got through with his poor 
little head I dunno what he will be, unless it’s 
luny. I hope you’ll not be blessed with any 
more gran’children to ’sperment with for I gits 
all out o’ patience with your queer notions.” 

“Wa’al, wa’al, I ain’t carin’, Seenie, for that 
feller done told me that I’d have my chanct yit 
an’ I’m content to wait my turn. He said that 
[192] 


UNCLE SAM 


I'd be a force for good in the worl’ an’ ain’t 
that ’nough to make me happy feelin’? He 
said ’f I’d jest keep on the upper track I’d git 
there an’ you said the money I give him was 
wasted but I think ’twas the best dollar’s 
worth I ever got in my life.” 

‘‘Must say I ain’t never yit found you good 
at anythin’.” 

Reuben appeared at the kitchen door that 
moment with a package in his hand. 

“You have brought me something?” said 
Lavinia, stepping forward to greet him. 

“Some flowers for me?” suggested her sister 
with a smile. 

“Mrs. Saylor, I brought up your fat pork as 
Bob forgot it. You folks seem to be having 
a good time. What’s up?” 

“We are making wedding cakes,” replied 
Teresa gaily. 

“Come, Rube, an’ git tied into this checked 
apron, for it’s all hands to it. You c’n help 
stun these raisins.” 

“I will help him,” said Lavinia. “Teresa, 
you will stain your pretty white hands, and 
mine are already dark.” Reuben sat between 
them on the high stool and enjoyed the atten- 
tions he received from the jealous sisters. 

“Mother will miss us,” prophesied Lavinia. 

“Indeed she will,” echoed her sister. 

“I wouldn’t marry the night she does for 
[i93] 


UNCLE SAM 

anything in the world for I know that it will 
be unlucky.” 

“I wouldn’t either, Lavinia, and if I wanted 
to marry I would choose a nice, pleasant man 
who would never be cross.” 

“I like men who are stout and comfortable 
looking, the doctor is too thin and angular.” 

“I would make a lovely bride, for white is 
so becoming to me and my favorite flowers are 
orange blossoms.” Rube looked at Teresa ad- 
miringly as she made this remark. 

“I never could make up my mind ’bout mar* 
ryin’,” he admitted honestly. “Trouble is 
there are too many nice women to choose from. 
Now if there was just one ” 

“I would say that you would be happy with 
a woman who had blue eyes and light hair.” 

“No, sister, he has light hair and contrasts 
are better. A brunette would be your affin- 
ity.” 

“I might leave my fate to chance. I will 
toss up a raisin, and whichever bowl catches it, 
the owner will be my bride.” 

“Oh!” said Lavinia, anxiously. 

“Ah!” said Teresa, excitedly. 

They waited and both were doomed to dis- 
appointment for the raisin fell at Reuben’s 
feet. He ate another raisin. 

“Suppose that were a true sign that I should 
never wed?” 


[ 194 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“I don’t believe in signs,” stated Teresa, 
cooingly. 

“Nor I,” informed Lavinia with a shrug. 

“Try another way. I’ll toss a raisin into 
your mouth and if you catch it you will know 
what is to be.’’ 

“A fine idea, Miss Teresa. Now I am ready.” 

The raisin fell upon the floor and Reuben 
grinned. 

“I can take better aim.” 

The raisin fell upon the floor. He laughed 
good naturedly and ate another raisin. 

“What you folks laughin’ ’bout?” Uncle 
Sam came toward the trio. 

“I’m trying to pick a wife but everything’s 
against it.” 

“Ain’t there no raisin in it? Wa’al, I’ll tell 
you, Rube, let me fix up this matter once for all. 
I’ll blindfold you an’ then turn you loose. Now, 
folks, the one he gits hold of is the gal.” 

“Now, there you go, but you better not git 
my Seenie ” 

“Nor my Maria.” 

“Nor my Vallie.” 

“Nor my Lydia.” 

“You’re off, Rube. Right to the centre a lit- 
tle. More to the right — no, to the left. Ain’t 
that fun to watch Rube tryin’ to git a wife at 
last after all these years. Pshaw! You ain’t 
warm ’t all. Now ” 


[i95] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Wh — y, Sam, there’s two of ’em.” 
“Ha-ha-ha-ha ! You’ll have to go to Mor- 
mon land to live, Rube. I can’t do no more 
for you.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


LETTERS. 

While others made their various plans 
Richard began working on a new proposition 
that might be useful in keeping away the blues 
for affairs of the heart were very depressing. 

He would pass much time at the gorge and 
often under the shade of the great trees he 
might be seen wandering, his interest keenly 
alive to some project he had in mind. He had 
mapped out extensive operations one might un- 
dertake if they so desired, and for the first time 
he was anxious to put into service knowledge 
of his profession. Electricity had always inter- 
ested him and he had thought and read largely 
on this line, believing that it was the great un- 
known force of the future. He knew that its 
powers had never yet really been touched upon 
and the marvels it would yet do were unnum- 
bered. Alone in this wilderness he took notes 
and made drawings that no one but himself 
would have understood. 

He had always thought that there was 
within him the making of a book, yet he 
had tried to evade that time when his sub- 
jective mind would overcome the mental 
[i97] 


UNCLE SAM 


lethargy that possessed him. Here in 
the quiet without any effort there seemed to 
take shape creatures of the brain which moved 
to their places, becoming more real each day, 
thought after thought unfolding consecutively 
until he was astonished to find that he had 
planned a book. He had not done it. It had 
not seemed a part of himself, and did he write 
it, there would be the dictation given from the 
unseen. He was very contented in his mind as 
though some longed for and necessary medium 
to his happiness had been realized. It became 
a living part of himself even as did the work 
that occupied Uncle Sam in his idle moments; 
a something that he might turn to for restful 
contemplation. He had practical stimulus in 
his outdoor work which he eagerly felt he could 
pursue in the future, and for the serene enjoy- 
ments there would be that world of his own 
creation that waited to entertain. 

Vallie often cried over the epistles, which 
came as frequently as falling leaves, and fall- 
ing hopes was the cry that rent their pages. 
These were carefully treasured that in future 
years when she was a great star she might read 
them over and over and think what might have 
been. Perhaps he knew the power of his wiz- 
ard pen to touch the heart chords into sweetest 
harmony, when only discordant notes were jar- 
ring into chaotic ruin. 


[198] 


UNCLE SAM 


She had begun to feel at home in the his- 
trionic environment and once the awkwardness 
had disappeared she took the greatest delight 
in her role. Ambitions began to fill her mind 
and no one realized what enormous flights her 
fancies took into that future when she would 
play before the world. Having a career would 
be the wise solution of all her problems that 
vexed her more and more. In the midst of one 
of these dreams another little feather from 
love’s wing would be wafted to her and for the 
moment all other things would be forgotten 
save the burning words of devotion that made 
her joyful and despondent. 

Richard had taken quite a fancy to big- 
hearted Walt Dean who rarely spoke, but when 
he did there was much of worth in his blunt 
speech. Together these two walked in the 
forest glades for Walt knew this region like a 
book. The trees were all his friends; the 
brooks were as familiar to him as his very 
youth when he had spent the hours plunging 
into their cool waters. 

“Perhaps heartaches made an unconscious 
bond between them for they were both in an 
unhappy condition of mind. Walt appreciated 
this new comradeship for he found in Richard 
a person whose many experiences of life in dif- 
ferent climes broadened his own restricted out- 
look. And yet Walt seemed so self-sustained 

[199] 


UNCLE SAM 

— this product of the rural life with only the 
rudimentary education — had the poise that the 
other lacked with all of his broad culture and 
extensive study. Richard envied him his 
strength of limb and clear vision, for from 
tilling fields and hoeing h-is row he had gar- 
nered many truths which found place in a mind 
not over-stocked with others’ thoughts. Rich- 
ard realized that it was not the college bred 
man who had all the advantages. These two 
soon saw that there was enough in common to 
piece out a friendship that w T ould be helpful to 
both, each sharing his knowledge portion, one 
schooled in worldly ways — the other reared in 
the solitude of Nature’s great heart. 

As Vallie and Belle drew more apart this 
friendship crystallized into a closer bond, 
which would bear the strain of years. From 
the sturdy qualities of the young school master 
Richard gained a confidence in himself that 
gradually made him feel more independent of 
his family for his boyish traits of character 
largely disappeared. He had received no word 
from his father and he would not break the 
silence that like a pall lay between them. 

But he rejoiced that he had been led where 
he had not only found the greatest joy in life 
but himself as well. No more did he drift like 
an anchorless vessel, weary and lost. Perhaps 
it was the woman he loved who had called him 
[200] 


UNCLE SAM 


to his place. He never gave up the hope that 
she would yet pledge her heart to his 
cause. While his way was blocked yet he felt 
determined to make an opening. What pleas- 
ure there was to feel that power within which 
could make his own destiny. For the first 
time he grasped the new-found force manfully, 
and having been fully aroused what might he 
not accomplish? In the silence he took lessons 
of courage and received the needed knowledge 
that would show him the true way and lead him 
into the promised land at last. 

It is pleasant to make friends, but grievous 
to lose them. Vallie was in Belle Fletcher’s 
thoughts as she wandered idly by the river one 
sunny afternoon, repeating snatches from the 
play which were an expression of her own sen- 
timents. She vaguely pondered on what her 
friend would do with her two suitors. She was 
fighting within her the great passion that gave 
her no peace of mind. Absently she watched 
drifting toward her a small white object, which 
was brought to her feet by a kind Fate she little 
expected. 

Picking up the water soaked packet she suc- 
ceeded in deciphering the name, and with 
trembling fingers she sorted over the letters, 
selecting an envelope least damaged by the wa- 
ter. An exclamation escaped her as she hastily 
read the tragic truth, then said: 

[201] 


UNCLE SAM 


“She will not know.” In her eyes there 
shone a peculiar light and the weapon in her 
hand seemed to give her new life and hope. 
“It is well I found them. What this means to 
me!” What did it mean to her? She rest- 
lessly paced the shore with downcast eyes and 
weighed in her distraught mind what she 
should do. She knew what her duty was with- 
out a doubt. To tell the one who would be 
most affected by the knowledge that had come 
within her reach. 

She fought a hard battle with conscience. 
Her mind went relentlessly backward over the 
years when they had played as children to- 
gether, casting their small boats upon the water 
to journey to unknown seas as their fancy 
might dictate. She had ever shown a generous, 
loving disposition toward her which had never 
failed in later years. It was Vallie’s soft hand 
that had soothed her burning brow in sickness. 
She had brought the only brightness in her 
drab colored life with its unpleasant environ- 
ment. 

In that season of youth when their malleable 
natures had been most impressed they had 
clung together in their petty joys and sorrows 
and none had come between to mar the perfect 
trust. Only now had the shadow of jealousy, 
like a loathsome thing, marred that companion- 
ship which is so dear to a woman, it pained her 
[202] 


UNCLE SAM 


that their chain should have a weaker link. 
But the greater pain had held sway over her 
intense nature entirely and she would not yield 
to gentle memories this revengeful opportunity 
placed within her reach. 

No! In secret would she hold this packet 
of letters, and perhaps they would be her solace 
in the hours when love desperately struggled 
against the fetters laid upon its freedom. His 
eyes had turned her heart to a burning, seeth- 
ing furnace and had also made it hard and cold 
as flint. Perhaps the writer of these delicately 
penned letters was now dead and that part of a 
past would not rise to tell its secret. They had 
fulfilled their mission, quietly floating on the 
river’s bosom from the foot of the big water- 
fall where they had been carelessly lost to 
bring happiness or misery — which? 

Would she wreck that sweet life that had 
been the best in her own lonely one? She had 
the warning but would she do her duty to a 
life-long friend? 

It might be that things were all right and not 
“bound in the shallows” of mystery; she would 
wait for results as her piqued nature would not 
forgive so she might do her duty. 

Belle had ever been jealous of those who 
liked Vallie, and she missed the sweet affection 
she had always cherished so tenderly, now hav- 
ing given place to soul-destroying misery that 
[203] 


UNCLE SAM 


goaded all her finer sensibilities to death. She 
did not know herself these days. Her nature 
was estranged from others — she was always 
wanting love but few gave to her. Walt was a 
diamond in the rough which she did not recog- 
nize or she would not have sought finer polish 
which glimmered on the surface but was poor 
shoddy stuff beneath. Her home surroundings 
had always been unpleasant ever since she 
could remember — a home ruled by a nervous 
tempered step-mother whose nature was so an- 
tagonistic to her own. She liked Richard very 
much, often leading into witty conversations 
with him between scenes, and Vallie was the 
topic often discussed between them. She was 
eager that he should succeed in his suit, but she 
believed that Vallie favored the other for some 
reason. 

Vexed in spirit, she decided to spend the 
night with Vallie, and perhaps she might bring 
some confession from her as to the true state of 
things : Perhaps the knowledge she had gained 
with a fuller interpretation than was in Belle’s 
power to give, for in the night watches confi- 
dences spring easily and she would try to read 
her friend. 

Vallie rejoiced that Belle wanted to be with 
her for she deeply regretted the drifting apart 
and the change in the one she believed to be so 
sincere. It had been a great shock to find her so 
[204] 


UNCLE SAM 


indifferent and cold for Belle could not dis- 
guise her real feelings as she was no hypocrite. 

“Vallie, what are you going to do with Rich- 
ard Randolph? He is desperately in love with 
you, and don’t you have any conscience pricks 
at trampling so recklessly upon hearts?” Val- 
lie gave her a peculiar glance, for in the words 
there might be deeper meaning. 

“You think, Belle, that I am breaking hearts 
right and left, but could you look closer — you 
might see my own breaking. I am very un- 
happy and I do not believe that I shall ever 
marry Richard Randolph since you ask me.” 

“Then it is the other.” Her voice was cold 
and Vallie looked upon her pityingly as she 
calmly replied : 

“No, I do not think I shall ever marry any 
one. 

“In such event there will be two disappointed 
men in the world. But you are a marrying 
woman.” 

“Belle, you know I have ever spoken without 
restraint to you; I intend to do so now, for it 
pains me deeply that you should be following a 
false trail. You are acting unwisely with your- 
self — cheating yourself — giving with the prodi- 
gality of your nature for nothing. Does it 
pay? No, indeed! I would have too much 
pride to love a man who did not return my af- 
fection.” 


[205] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Oh, Vallie!” putting forth a hand which 
had been hardened by rough toil for years. 
“You do not understand. You have not the 
reckless spirit that throws away without careful 
thought. You want to be loved, while I want 
only to love. Cannot you see that this is but 
the carrying out of my fate, for I have always 
sacrificed. Alone will I drift in my boat in dark 
waters while you will sail gloriously to bound- 
less seas, for it is written.” 

“Belle, you are entirely too much of a fatal- 
ist. I have no patience with your doctrine of 
the inevitable. You have in your hand the 
mastery of your own life — of self. As for 
love — how senseless is it after all. What good 
will it ever do you? You are as silly as some 
novel reading school girl, and it’s but that 
romantic spirit in you that cherishes what is 
making you so unhappy. Life is a lesson of 
overcoming, and renunciation often makes one 
better for the sacrifice. You are wishing for 
the impossible and I am sorry for you.” 

“Cold words do not touch warm blood as 
mine. I am sorry for you, Vallie, for you have 
never endured the pain — the pleasure — the 
mad tumult of brain and heart — the enrap- 
tured thrill of lips held to yours — the clasp of 
a hand.” Her eyes were very bright and her 
bosom heaved convulsively as if there lacked 
space for her beating heart. 

[206] 


UNCLE SAM 


“To think that you should have come to this, 
Belle! I always knew when it came it would 
take you like a whirlwind in its grasp; but I 
did not think you would allow your baser pas- 
sions to engulf you — I am angry at you. Be- 
cause you are not the same girl — the same 
friend ! Don’t I see the awful change that this 
despicable feeling has engendered? Jealous 
of me — jealous of his every look and smile. 
Bah! It sickens me! I don’t think any man 
who ever lived is worth so much agony. You 
lived before you saw him — well, forget!” 

“It is every woman’s right to love and I am 
but carrying out that which was implanted in 
my very being. Then why accuse me of base- 
ness? Did I bring this about? No one is less 
to blame, for love steals upon us unawares.” 

“You are to blame and you alone! When 
love brings unhappiness you should stamp it 
under foot as a viperous thing. It is evil, and 
by cherishing it within your breast you are a 
coward — afraid to take up arms against an 
enemy. I tell you what is for your own good. 
Have I not always been your friend and you 
know that I would do anything now to bring to 
you peace of mind! You are seeing things 
wrong.” 

“Life is all tragedy and I wish that I was 
dead!” The wild look in her eyes made her 
friend anxious. 


[207] 


UNCLE SAM 


“You always said that you would fall in love 
at first sight and now I believe you. You said 
that you would love from the first glance into 
his face and it must be so. You have held un- 
usual ideas about love and marriage and think 
that the woman should have the privilege of do- 
ing the courting. You have chosen, but not 
wisely. He loves another.” Yallie spoke 
firmly and the other winced. 

“I know he does.” 

“Why not put your impractical ideas to the 
test — ask him to marry you.” 

“I am the last woman he would want to 
marry.” 

“You realize that much?” 

“Of course I do, but it doesn’t change my 
feeling in the least, only increases the pain. I 
am not ashamed of my love.” 

“Belle, what shall we do about our troubles? 
We were content before they came into our 
lives?” She threw her arms affectionately 
about the other and her touch caused Belle to 
think of the letter over her heart. For a mo- 
ment she was impelled to bring it forth and 
tell all, then she subdued it for she had been 
wounded by Vallie’s words and evident lack of 
sympathy. 

“I can’t see why you should be so disheart- 
ened. On one hand you have a lover who of- 
fers you everything worth having. On the 

[208] 


UNCLE SAM 


other devotion of — — ” she could not finish. 
“I like Randolph very much for he is sincere, 
and would sacrifice everything for the woman 
he married. The other is more selfish — but 
how I love him! What is the reason for this 
madness? You tell the truth when you say it’s 
that. Who yet has been able to explain that 
strange fascination that one holds over an- 
other?” 

“I always told you that you would enjoy 
making a martyr of yourself for some man. 
There is that type of women and you are its 
strong exponent. You want to do the worship- 
ing.” 

“And you want to be worshipped.” 

“Of the two — yes. A woman may be very 
indifferent when she marries, and the proba- 
bility will be in a few years matters will be re- 
versed. A man needs more love than a wom- 
an.” The oppressive silence that had been be- 
tween them for the past weeks was lifted and 
Vallie opened her heart to Belle for she felt 
she must talk to some one. 

“Would you marry a man if he was 
estranged from his family by such a union?” 
Vallie unconsciously curled her red lips a:nd her 
voice was tinged with sarcasm. “Advise me 
since I have been showing you the way out of 
your difficulties.” 

“Only one can do that. It is your heart that 

[209] 


UNCLE SAM 


will dictate to you sooner or later, even as mine 
has done. We may rule other things, but it 
will have no master as guide. If you loved 
him you would know what to do.” 

“But I am so sensible. You know my practi- 
cal nature and I cannot even comprehend that 
spirit that sways you. Haven’t I always said 
that I would not be disappointed in matrimony 
for I wouldn’t expect as much as most women. 
Dead, disillusioned romances come from wrong 
views of marriage. I approve of the foreign 
manner of procuring husbands. The happiest 
marriages are not founded upon this unreason- 
ing love. When the first ardor cools what is 
left? There must be respect, congeniality and 
unselfishness if there is peace in the family 
jar. That is why I hesitate about the question. 
I’m afraid.” 

“Vallie, you talk as if you were a guide to a 
matrimonial bureau, and you are certainly pro- 
saic enough. You’d take all the flavor out of 
matrimony by hard, cold facts sustaining your 
theories — all the sweet from the honey and the 
perfume from the flower of promise. Have 
wisdom in other things but there is no place in 
— love. That is why we all like It. I pity any 
one who wastes affection upon such a calculat- 
ing person. But you should marry Richard, 
for no one else will ever care for you as he 
does.” 


[210] 


UNCLE SAM 


“And love is not all as he himself tells me. 
1 might prove a millstone about his neck and 
he regret it afterwards.” 

“A sweet load he would wish above all else. 
If you could love him you would at least make 
one person happy.” 

“Oh, Belle, thank you kindly, but suppose I 
do not want to make a person happy. I may 
rather prefer to take your heart’s delight. He 
has a fine shoulder to weep upon, and is so sane 
in his love making. He goes about it in much 
the same way that he would compiling a brief. 
I like his style and I doubt if it would burn out 
as quick as the fiery flame. Too, he has learned 
to make some pretty speeches since being in the 
play, and he is very nice when he looks into 
your eyes,” 

“You are only making me feel bad, you 
wicked creature, and I only wish that I might 
be making those same speeches to him. I 
should have been a man. You know how jeal- 
ous I have always been of you, not wanting to 
share with any one your friendship.” 

“And now all has changed, Belle. You can’t 
know how I feel about it and then you will 
never visit me.” 

“Heartless ! I only wish that you might feel 
this struggle.” She laid her hand upon her 
heart and the letter seemed to burn it. 

“Forget about it, Belle, and if you cannot 
[2X1] 


UNCLE SAM 


do that take the other alternative. Make a 
little sacred niche, and there enthrone your 
idol, and perhaps it may yet sweeten your life. 
If you must keep it, try to have it bring you 
new found treasures — that you would not part 
with.” 

After Vallie had fallen into dreamless sleep 
her companion became submerged in her grief, 
forgetting all her friend’s well meant advice. 
For his face was near — his eyes looked into 
hers and he had never said a word of love, 
yet how many had she heard. Life holds more 
invisible love trysts than in reality. At night 
he called her endearing names and she became 
his slave. Oh, phantom dreams! Happy and 
unhappy moments that we weave with our own 
imaginings, and call it Fate! 

“I feel as though Fate is playing a game of 
solitaire with me and taking all the tricks,” 
was her last waking thought. 


[212] 


CHAPTER XIII. 


DRIFTING. 

Eventide hung low upon the river, the 
water a glowing reflection of the sun’s depart- 
ing glory. 

“I like these Turner sunsets.” Yeager 
toyed lazily with the oars as he fondly gazed 
into the girl’s face about which waved tenderly 
her rebellious curls. 

“What is more restful than drifting at sun- 
set hour forgetful of the world? I wish that 
I might go on — and on, and never come back 
from dreamland — with you. Vallie, do you 
know that life could be very sweet if you were 
always beside me, helping guide my little boat 
on life’s waters? I could forget the worries, 
the unsatisfied longings and regrets if I knew 
that you would always share my canoe. But 
you are drifting — toward what?” 

“I wish I knew.” 

“I wish you did — I am trying to anchor you 
— and yet I feel far from having you — safe in 
harbor.” 

“My little craft seems to blow about care- 
lessly — at the mercy of the winds and waves. 

[213] 


UNCLE SAM 


I seem to have lost my oars and compass, and 
no one can tell what will become of the frail 
vessel that others are watching with interest. 

“I think this a very good time for retrospec- 
tion for the calmness of the scene gives clear 
vision.” 

“Don’t let us think — about anything. It is 
too warm. Like you, I wish that I would drift 
into harbor, and be at peace, into the harbor 
of ” 

“Love?” 

“No.” 

“Fame?” 

“No.” 

“Joy?” 

“No.” 

“Fortune?” 

“No.” 

“I give it up — what, pray?” 

“Content.” She sighed. “Contentment of 
the heart for it must be satisfied with something 
definite — tangible. The soul must reach up- 
ward with a healthy discontent for better 
things. But there is no progress with an un- 
happy heart.” 

“I could be well content if I could have what 
I crave. The feast of Tantalus is spread but 
I may not partake.” 

“And you would be happy?” 

“Supremely happy.” 

[214] 


UNCLE SAM 


“You do not know. You but suppose, and 
that is very uncertain.” She looked wearied. 

“But I envy you for you know what you 
want.” 

“You are drifting, aren’t you? You have 
the course in your own hands? Are you going 
to lose your way? Will you founder upon the 
rocks? Do you see no breakers ahead?” 

“Nothing else. Both Scylla and Charybdis.” 

“Take heed. I would like to give you warn- 
ing. I see by your eyes that your mind is not 
tranquil — you are in doubt — you are afraid.” 

“Very much afraid, for the waters are so 
uncertain and no one shows the way.” She 
was very serious-eyed. 

“Yes, you are afraid of the future that will 
be carved from the happenings of the past — 
which we are making. Is there not in your 
pathway a great divide which you cannot 
brook?” His voice had never sounded more 
musical. 

“Would you want to choose one whose peo- 
ple would never be yours?” 

“No.” She spoke decisively. 

“I am glad of that. You do not know how 
much a woman loses in such a case. Friction 
will occur sooner or later. A man is between 
two fires — loyalty and love.” 

“I know.” 


[215] 


UNCLE SAM 

“Unhappiness is often caused by this alone. 
It is dangerous ground.” 

“My people would welcome you as one of 
their own.” 

A pain came in her heart at the words and 
she thought of the other side. She thought of 
Elsie, and the words that had stung her to the 
quick. Richard would want to marry a very 
intelligent woman. He had never seen a wom- 
an he could possibly marry. 

“Am I an intelligent woman?” She smiled 
as she asked the question. 

“Unusually so. Why?” 

“Oh, I wanted to know what you thought of 
me.” There would be no welcoming hand out- 
stretched to her in sympathy. She would be an 
alien, shunned and ignored and humiliated. 
Could she endure it?” 

As though reading her thoughts he began pic- 
turing to her his Southland home, where lived 
his parents whom he expected to visit in the 
near future. 

“Vallie, 1 want to take you with me, I want 
you to find the true welcome, the love that you 
deserve. You are too rare and fine a woman 
to be placed in an inferior position. The roses 
are blooming about the old house now and we 
can sit beneath the magnolia trees and listen 
to the song birds. It is a rambling country 
place where life is easy and there is no false 
[216] 


UNCLE SAM 


show. You will be a daughter to them and in 
trouble they will console you and smooth your 
way with kindness and love.” 

His face appeared very happy as he spoke 
of the old home life. “I want to go back for 
it has been some years since I was there. I 
want to begin that new life — with you, Vallie.” 
A shade of doubt seemed to stamp itself on his 
handsome features. “How proud they would 
be of you.” His tone was very sincere and she 
did not doubt that it would be the welcome that 
he pictured. She knew that he came from a 
good family and it must be pleasant at the coun- 
try mansion which appealed to her strongly. 
What a nice place to lose one’s self on a honey- 
moon sojourn. The thought tinged her cheeks 
like scarlet poppies. 

“Our environments have been the same, our 
tastes would not be different, our lives could 
merge successfully. Yes, after the play is over 
— after I win the suit — won’t you go with me?” 

“Do you think you will win?” 

“I have a good chance.” He brightened at 
the thought. Had he not great plans all de- 
pending as did those of the others upon this 
outcome? 

“We cannot thank you enough for all you 
have done in our behalf.” 

“But remember what a price I ask in return.” 
Then he smiled and said boyishly: “Do you 

[217]. 


UNCLE SAM 


recollect that first night I called upon you when 
I was challenged? Since then I have had but 
the one thought — to win out. You know what 
style of man I am. There is nothing of the 
unusual about me. I am a plain man, one of 
the plodders who make comfortable husbands. 
I have ambition, but not any talents. With 
sufficient capital” — he smiled — “I will not 
worry about the future. Men of the artistic 
temperament are far more interesting to wom- 
en — but after that is gone, what remains?” 

“Where there are no common elements there 
is danger — for a wife. These natures rebel at 
the monotony of married life. They must have 
change — excitement. Those wives always pay 
a price that the world doesn’t know about. With 
their over-developed tendencies are weaknesses 
and these mar the whole. You could never 
perform such a part for you are too desirous 
of a share of the world’s delights. Think of 
Grizel — poor little Grizel.” 

“I have been thinking much on this subject 
since reading a recent book which shows up the 
sufferings of a degraded wife. She had to 
endure untold misery to pay the price. I under- 
stand. Her self-sacrifice was unbounded and 
yet she was never considered her husband’s 
equal by his family. They had begged her not 
to marry him and he relinquished a fortune by 
so doing. Does a woman do right to marry 
[218] 


UNCLE SAM 


under such circumstances?” She had found a 
clever way to ask what she wanted to know for 
she valued his opinion. He seemed so well bal- 
anced that she admired him more and more, 
and he had never appeared as self-reliant as he 
did today. He would stand between a woman 
and the world. She would know upon what she 
could count? He would make his way in de- 
liberate pace, sure of every step. 

“I don’t think she is just to herself. He asks 
so much and she receives so little. But there 
are women who will marry such men and they 
love often to the end, which is happy at times, 
but often the reverse. But for all the happi- 
ness there is so much misery.” 

“Yes, so much uncertainty. It is like being 
tied to a comet’s tail and never knowing where 
you’ll be led. You know my father has a very 
peculiar temperament. He has a wandering 
spirit. My mother never could feel at ease, 
though she did not object to following his 
wishes. She was very devoted to him and was 
happy. But I want to marry a normal man.” 
She laughed and continued : 

“I wouldn’t want to have to buy the neigh- 
bor’s chickens so that he might write his son- 
nets, or have to put him up in an attic chamber 
where chanticleers could not disturb his reluc- 
tant muse. I would not have objected to mak- 
ing tea and porridge for the celebrities that 

[219], 


UNCLE SAM 


visited Mrs. Carlyle, but an unknown wife of 
a well known man has her trials.” They had 
neared the home shore and he could not take 
his eyes from her beauty. With her daintily 
moulded hands with slender fingers not too 
long, held in her pretty gesture beneath her 
white throat she looked ravishing, for her eyes 
were soft and tender and full of dreamy light. 
His hand was hot as it touched her, and she 
held such a power over him. How he wanted 
to take her in his arms. He had never wanted 
to love a woman as he did her. It was her art- 
lessness that charmed. What a sensation she 
would create! He had great pride, and how 
he would enjoy owning such a beautiful wom- 
an. He had once said he would want a wife 
that all other men would admire, and here was 
the woman. She could hold her own with any. 
He was elated for he felt that he was master 
of the situation as he looked at her in his com- 
pelling way with his strong will working 
against hers. The power of suggestion was 
never more in evidence and he was gaining 
ground. He had made good strokes and was 
on the home run. Could he make the race? 
He dared not falter for he did not know where 
his rival was. His clear eye was on the goal, 
and his speed was not slackened. 

Drifting — drifting — drifting 

[220] 


CHAPTER XIV. 


HIS SISTER. 

“Come in, Mis’ Fletcher, an’ set here so’s 
you’ll be out’n my way for ’tis the hurry an’ 
worry in this house. You c’n help with these 
chickens ’f you’re a mind to, for I’m goin’ to 
make up salad for the weddin’ feast. The 
cake ’s too fine for nuthin’ an’ it’s a wonder 
when I thinks how many hands did the mixin’. 
We’ve ordered the cream and sherbits from the 
city. Mr. Randolph would see to it for us an’ 
he’s the nicest fellow to help anybody out. He’ll 
be here soon I reckon for he gits back on the 
train. 

“Eggs ’s high but we has to feed our folks 
on ’em. Lydia has hers raw an’ Teresa wants 
hers part cooked an’ Lavinia must have hers 
boiled twenty-five minutes by the big clock or 
she won’t touch ’em for fear of her digestion, 
but I don’t pay no ’tention to that an’ she ’s 
jest ’s well off for she don’t know the dif 
rence.” 

“Mr. Randolph must be liking Vallie a 
heap.” Mrs. Fletcher gave her little hacking 
cough. 

[22 i]j 


UNCLE SAM 


“Yes, he do, and he says his mother and sis- 
ter will visit us for they are coming to see the 
play. It seems ’s if it never rains but it pours 
company, but his folks are mighty fine an’ I 
likes ’em.” 

“Fine ladies don’t want no country daugh- 
ters,” said Mrs. Fletcher, spitefully. “Vallie’s 
ridin’ of a high horse but she may yit git 
throwed down — be left with no beaux ’t all. 
Those city fellers have drove the others away 
an’ she’ll be lonesome when they pull out after 
the play. Now my John ’d have her when she 
was older an’ more settled ” 

“Your John — huh! My Vallie marry that 
bowlegged shanks. You must be crazy to say 
sich a thing. Vallie ain’t the marryin’ kind no 
how. She wants to go on the stage an’ she may 
bum-by. She don’t go daffy over men like some 
girls I knows of.” Seenie looked very wise. 

“I never saw anybody yank ’em in faster an’ 
I wonders how she do it. There’s a reason, as 
I told Belle to-day.” 

“Yes, there is, an’ it’s ’cause she’s sweet ’s 
sugar.” Seenie banged the oven door for she 
didn’t like the other’s comments and her sly 
looks. “You’re a clever hand to help, but you 
wag your tongue too much. Vallie won’t be 
throwed down by those fellers — they’ll act on 
the squar’ an’ marry when she says the word.” 

“Folks c’n talk a heap but actin’ ’s another 
[222! 


UNCLE SAM 

matter. Men ain’t marryin’ poor girls if they 
has money an’ good looks.” 

“Don’t talk ’bout poor girls. Vallie ’ll have 
sunthin’ ’f I gives it to her myself. An’ I ain’t 
no pauper — yit.” Seenie spoke with pride for 
it was a source of the greatest satisfaction that 
she was mistress of the rolling meadow land 
and fertile river bottom acres. “Andy’s farm 
is wuth sunthin’ an’ I ain’t no kin. I reckon I’ll 
alwus look after Sam’s girls; what else did I 
marry him for?” 

“You married that man ’cause you couldn’t 
help it — you likes him an’ don’t everybody else 
that knows him?” Her generous tone mollified 
Seenie. 

“Huh — ! Sam ’ll do, but he’s a care. Here’s 
a pile o’ trash he’s been whittlin’ up, makin’ 
boats an’ I dunno what not. Sam’l ’ll have more 
than he’ll ever play with but Sam is alwus plan- 
nin’ for that child. ’F his blocks ain’t under my 
feet the whole time an’ we has to stop our work 
an’ say ba — ab to him an’ git him goin’ with his 
ed’cation. You know Sam takes up with every 
queer notion. Got a skel’ton for him to l’arn 
bones by an’ he seems to like it, too. Sam will 
have his own way. Jinny, you come here an’ 
help. You ain’t goin’ to play, so you can shet 
up ’bout the piany. Yes, I’m goin’ to let it go 
to the grove an’ you c’n play that night — not 
before. You has to mind.” 

[223] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Mr. Randolph must ’a’ got back for ain’t 
that him singin’? He has a fine voice.” 

“He c’n do anythin’ most. I never seed sich 
a clever feller an’ he’s been paintin’ some 
scen’ry that ’s nat’ral ’s life. Why, ’f the sad- 
dle hangin’ on the side o’ the farm house don’t 
fool folks. That boy c’d be anybody he wanted 
to — but when it comes easy like to do you ain’t 
’s pert ’bout workin’. It ’mazes me how smart 
he is but he don’t think nuthin’ ’t all of hisself. 
That kind ’ll either be big failur’ or big success, 
no tellin’ which. Uncommon kind of folks ’s 
mighty tricky an’ the ord’nary man for me. I 
tells Sam that he’s goin’ to ruin the baby’s life 
by makin’ a prodigy of him, but he won’t pay 
no heed to me for Sam thinks he knows it all 
an’ I knows what’s left, which is mighty little 
I’m here to tell you.” 

“You sing such beautiful little songs, Dick, 
and I believe that they are — yours.” 

“No, yours, little girl, for I give them all to 
you. No one else shall know them, for they 
are not meant except for the one who sings to 
me every hour of the day. I hear her voice 
when dawn cradled in night awakes with its 
feeble cry of light; at night when moon and 
stars shine down ’round my pillow I still listen 
to her song.” 

“That is sad, did her lover ever return?” 
[224] 


UNCLE SAM 


“No. No doubt she is still keeping the silent 
watch for one across the sea.” 

“Dick, I love to hear you play and sing. 
There is so much music in fingers and voice. 
Why were you not a great musician, for you 
could have been?” 

“Perhaps I could but I received no musical 
education. I do not like to work so that it is 
as well. Too much is sacrificed to attain a 
great end. I could not be a slave to even a 
great talent. Vallie, I have always run away 
from old Mr. Toil and do you ever think that 
he will overtake me?” 

“I’m afraid not, for you are too elusive. I 
would like to listen to your music all day and 
night. I always wanted to — sing. I think that 
would be the best of all.” 

A towsled head appeared behind the door 
and the eyes were vacantly staring, listening — 
drinking into her soul those heavenly sounds — 
yes, they were all safe now — every one — treas- 
ured for — some sweet day. 

“You, Jinny, listenin’ at doors ag’in. I’d be 
’shamed.” But the words did not affect the 
girl for she was not of earth. “Moonin’, 
moonin’ an’ spoonin’ an’ I gits no help with the 
bunch o’ work waitin’ to be done.” 

“You will never be unhappy as was that little 
blue-eyed girl who waited ’neath the old wall 
where red cherries ripened. You will never 

[225] 


UNCLE SAM 


love as she did. Ah, Vallie, I wish that I might 
teach you — to love is to live — you don’t see the 
beauty in anything until — you love. He took 
her soft hand tenderly between his own and she 
asked seriously: 

“If you taught me, would you afterwards 
forget?” 

“No other woman could ever make me for- 
get — you.” 

“That is why I am afraid, Dick. Now I am 
free and I cannot be hurt; but then I would be 
helpless.” 

“I will never leave you unless you send me, 
dear, and even then I doubt if I would obey. I 
have become very conceited of late, and I begin 
to think that no other man lives who can make 
you as happy. I never imagined a woman could 
so fill a man’s life as you have done. And fear ! 
’Tis I who am afraid. I have no more freedom 
for I have allowed fetters to be placed upon 
me, and you are master, even as was Kaylis, 
while I am slave. With your glorious beauty 
you have woven about me a network of love 
that is stronger than life itself. I go from you 
that I may again return — soon. 

“ ‘I want no stars in heaven to guide me; 

I need no moon , no sun to shine ; while 
I have you,, sweetheart, beside me; while 
I know that you are mine.* ” 

[226] 


UNCLE SAM 


Tenderly he sang with untold depths of pas- 
sion in the words, and she listened enraptured, 
for she was carried out of herself for the mo- 
ment, the melody sinking deep within her heart. 

“Dick, that will be our song, for it so appeals 
to me. What power you have in that caressing 
touch. Jenny hears — poor little girl — I only 
wish that she might play as you do. I am glad 
that we will have cue music for I can act bet- 
ter.” 

“Music drives away my blues and consoles 
my sad heart.” 

“I wish that I could pour forth myself in 
song.” 

“I am trembling at the thought of playing 
before your mother and sister, Dick. Suppose 
I should get stage fright?” She seemed to see 
the haughty look on his sister’s face. Could 
she hold her own? 

“Have no fears for you are the only one I 
feel very sure about — excepting your father. 
You know that I have not yet committed my 
lines, with my usual dilatory habits.” Then he 
ended his song softly: 

“ ‘But the kingdom of my heart, love, lies 
within your loving arms.’ ” He drew her with- 
in a strong embrace, and Jenny appeared at the 
door grinning at the scene before her. 

“Vallie, Teresa an’ Lavinia are havin’ a fight 
an Seenie says to come an’ settle ’em. They’re 
[ 22 7 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


fitin’ to beat the band.” As she talked her 
eyes were on the piano and she remarked to 
Richard. “Ain’t that lovely. I c’n play it.” 

“Try, Jenny.” He never saw such eagerness 
in a face. 

“Seenie ’d jump me.” She reached out an 
impatient hand and touched the keys, then ran 
from the room as though another moment she 
would have surrendered to that longing within 
that burned her day and night with its magical 
voice. 

“Teresa ’s quarreling because she says La- 
vinia came between her and Reuben. They are 
very much distressed at their mother marrying 
and I hope they will calm down for I want the 
wedding to go off peaceably.” 

“Vallie, don’t I wish that it was to be ours!” 
He looked at her steadily and she blushed. 
“Vallie, I want you to now make a confession. 
What did you do while I was away? Did you 
see that big, handsome rival of mine?” She 
was silent and very serious. 

“I see by your eyes that you did and that he 
has been making love to you again.” 

“We had a lovely time on the river.” 

“Dangerous! What did he say?” 

“He talked about law suits and ” her 

eyes drooped. 

“Love?” She. would not reply. 

“Vallie, he is wasting his time for you are 
[228] 


UNCLE SAM 


not going to marry him. You may as well tell 
him I said as much.” 

“I am not so sure. He will make a good hus- 
band — I could do worse. He is a man and — ” 

“I a boy?” 

“He is so strong — so reliable.” 

“And I the opposite?” 

“He bids me welcome to his home.” 

“And I cannot.” 

“His people would be mine.” 

“And mine would not.” 

“He has ambition.” 

“And I have none.” 

“He will face the world.” 

“And I will hide away. 

“What a risk the woman would run. Al- 
most as much as Lydia. How is the bride?” 

“Quite serene. The doctor has driven her 
over to her future home.” 

“If she is not afraid, Vallie, why should you 
be?” 

“I am very young and life lies before me — 
while it is past with her and but a few years of 
the bitter or sweet remain. Her race is short 
but mine might be long — and what is worse 
than an unsuitable marriage?” 

“Our marriage would be ideal. We are very 
congenial and would live a simple, contented 
life for we do not care for the false glitter, and 
[229] 


UNCLE SAM 


would never make ourselves slaves to society, 
losing the wheat for the chaff.” 

“But that simple life would not content me, 
Dick. Oh, don’t you realize all the ambition in 
this little bit of a woman ! You would be happy 
playing life away, but — I would rather work. 
Not be ” 

“One of the common herd?” 

“But something more than eating and sleep- 
ing. You would not want to follow where I 
would lead or lead that I might follow. I want 
to make life worth while ” 

“Love me, and you will have done it, sweet.” 

“Do be serious, Dick.” 

“Was never more so in my life. What would 
be more wonderful than making me happy, for 
I have never been. Then you wouldn’t have 
lived in vain.” 

“But I don’t want love, Dick — I’ve told you 
I don’t want that — I don’t know what it is and 
> — don’t care — to find out.” 

They were interrupted by the entrance of 
Uncle Sam, followed by a tall, fine looking 
young woman. 

“Vallie, can you guess who this stranger is?” 

“I think that you must be Gertrude Yeager.” 
She spoke simply and held out her hand im- 
pulsively. The other’s face appealed to her at 
once and she liked his sister from the first 
glance. With rare tact and sweet cordiality she 
[230] 


UNCLE SAM 


met one and all of the household, and Richard 
was impressed very favorably by her. He liked 
her much better than Yeager. He at once took 
his departure. 

“Roscoe wanted me to become acquainted, 
and I came because I would know the woman 
who is very dear to him. He has told me all 
his hopes and — Vallie, you don’t know how I 
wish he would succeed.” These two were alone 
in her room for she had decided to remain for 
the wedding to be solemnized that night. 

“I see you have his picture — isn’t he hand- 
some? I am so fond of him but we have not 
been together much in late years. He wanted 
my visit to be a surprise and he said we must 
be friends. We are looking forward to his 
visit at the old home. It is lovely there now 
and I — hope that he will not come alone. I 
cannot say more — can I, dear?” She smoothed 
the other’s little hand affectionately. She was 
one of those women who charmed not so much 
by wit or beauty, but by that indefinable grace 
that belongs to the Southern bred woman. To 
Vallie she seemed to be superior not in wisdom 
but in experience of life, and she was sincere. 
In contrast how far beneath her was Elsie with 
her vanity and envious designs. It was very re- 
freshing to talk with Gertrude Yeager, and it 
was not very long before Vallie began to feel 

[231] 


UNCLE SAM 

that they had known one another for years, not 
hours. 

“You desire me to marry your brother?” 
For the first time the problem came sharply be- 
fore her. 

“After seeing you, Vallie dear, how could I 
decide differently. Roscoe talks of you all the 
time and I know that he is deeply in love. He 
is a fine boy but I will share him with you. I 
want him to marry and settle down and you will 
make him happy. He will be good to you for 
he could not be otherwise to one he cared for.” 
She put a loving arm about the other’s slim 
waist and a thrill of pleasure possessed the girl. 
Would Richard’s sister have done this? Would 
she have wanted her for a sister? 

“I know you’ll like mother — she is so sweet 
— so fine — and father is a hale old son of the 
South with all the inborn chivalry that we boast 
about so proudly. We are plain people who 
enjoy life in simplicity and are unaffected in our 
manners. Vallie, you will find a welcome at the 
old home. We are so proud of Roscoe — he 
has done well with his professional career and 
will do more. I think a woman can feel sure 
of him in every way. He has a clean record 
as far as I know, and I don’t believe that he has 
ever done anything that he would be ashamed 
of if others knew. So many men have a past , 
dear, and his slate is clean.” 

[232] 


UNCLE SAM 


“You know there is another ” 

“Yes, my brother has spoken about him. He 
was here with you when I came. He loves you 
deeply I can tell, and what a nice face he has.” 
Vallie was pleased by her words. 

“His father opposes the marriage, and then 
I do not know that it would ever do.” Vallie 
shook her pretty head decisively. 

“His father would like you did he know 
you.” 

“Do you think so?” 

“He would be a strange man did he not. You 
could win over any one I believe.” 

“But an obstacle like this is hard to over- 
come.” It was singular how her mind seemed 
to be on Richard, but had he not been impress- 
ing his striking personality upon her, and when 
he was gone she could not forget. He was so 
sure, so determined, that her will seemed help- 
less in his hands. 

“Vallie, you are so young — so beautiful, that 
you must not make a mistake. You should have 
the best, for I know your nature is as pure as 
your face. This is not flattery, but my true 
opinion, and we may as well be frank for we 
may not meet again. I do not like to think 
what that would mean, especially to — him, for 
he does not like defeat. I never saw his face 
so handsome as last night when he talked to 
me about you — there was something new that 

[233] 


UNCLE SAM 


seemed to ennoble. He said that he was so 
much better since he had known you — in every 
way.” 

“I wish, Gertrude, that some one would show 
me the — way. I wonder if other women feel 
so — doubtful — as I do, or if they fully under- 
stand love and marriage. I don’t seem to.” 

‘‘Unless you can give up all else for him — 
unless you can know that his love is true, un- 
less you cannot live without him, you should not 
marry. Does my face look troubled, Vallie? 
I have lines of sorrow that should not have been 
there at my age, but I have suffered. I am the 
one who can warn others for I was a cruel vic- 
tim of unkind Fate !” 

“You, Gertrude? Your face is so calm, so 
lovely.” 

“Even my brother does not know this — we 
could never write him of my unfortunate mar- 
riage.” 

“I did not know you had been married.” 

“I married and later discovered that there 
was another wife living. What could I do ? I 
had been wronged but it was too late. My life 
was ruined and I had no redress. I did not tell 
Roscoe for I feared a tragedy to add to the 
rest. I came back to the old home and in a 
way — life is over for me. Oh. Vallie, I was 
such a happy girl, loved by everybody, and the 
life of the social set of our little town. I loved 

[234] 


UNCLE SAM 


him so — that was the worst. Even now I 
wake in the night my eyes wet with tears for my 
heart is lonely for him. My little baby died, 
and with it died my heart. Do you wonder that 
I see the serious side of this question. Know 
the man you marry!” 

“How dreadful! I did not know that men 
did those things. I feel so deeply for you, Ger- 
trude. And I thank you for your solicitude for 
me. How did you find out?” 

“The woman came to the town where we 
lived — and we met. I understand that there 
are many women who fare the same as I did. 
A man who will do such a thing as was my 
husband guilty of should be put in jail forever. 
When one takes the best of your life should 
he not suffer for his robbery? Do not give love 
recklessly.” 

“Since I have met you I feel that all you say 
of your brother is true — it must be for you 
know him best of all.” 

“If he deceived his family I would have no 
more faith in men. Last night he spoke of my 
subdued manner and I felt impelled to tell him 
— all, yet I could not. Roscoe was ever very 
proud of me for we were so devoted — only the 
two children, you know. At our meeting all 
the pain came back — in a rush of misery and I 
nearly lost all self-possession. I expect to tell 
him — soon, when I get the courage. He would 
[ 235 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


never rest until he had found him — I should 
not want them to meet. This is why I am glad 
to persuade you to marry my brother, so you 
will be safe.” 

“I don’t know much about men. I never had 
any brothers and no mother to tell me things 
a girl should know.” 

“I know that Roscoe would be good and 
considerate and what more can I say, dear. 
That in a man is best of all.” 

“Wonder what those girls are findin’ to talk 
’bout so long, Sam. I never seen the beat of 
folks cornin’ an’ it’s a good thing she won’t be 
here for the night for every bed ’s took. I 
think his sister is mighty sweet and I like her 
better than Miss Elsie. She kind of put on 
airs, I reckon we didn’t suit her fine tastes. ’F 
his parents are like her I’d have ’em come to 
see us any time. He’s goin’ to git our girl, 
Sam, if he can, an’ what you think ’bout it?” 

“Wa’al, I’m muddled, Seenie, an’ that’s the 
truth. I can’t have no young feller come nearer 
to me than Richard, an’ how he do love my lit- 
tle girl. Wh — y, his eyes never leave her face 
an’ if it’d last I’d like to see ’em spliced. His 
folks bein’ ag’in’ it ’s the fly in the honey. What 
will his ma think ’bout it, Seenie?” 

“Laws, Sam, I can’t say ’bout them folks. 
I’d think any woman with sense ’d take to our 
Vallie, but we ain’t them. Yeager ’s goin’ to 
[236] 


UNCLE SAM 


git on in the work an’ the other ’s no tellin’ 
’bout. I bet Jinny ’s up listenin’ at the door 
hearin’ every -word they say. Ain’t she the 
child of Satan?” 

“I’m in here settin’ the table, Seenie, an’ git- 
tin’ things fixed up pretty. See, Uncle Sam, 
what a fine vase of flowers I’ve done fixed up 
for the table.” Jenny seemed full of impor- 
tance with her new red dress on and white 
apron. 

“You’re doin’ things up purty, Jinny, an’ sup- 
per ’ll soon be ready. I knows that Lavinia 
and Teresa won’t be dressed in time for they 
stop to fuss too much. Teresa’s eyes look big 
as saucers an’ like a red moon from weepin’. 
This is a house divided ’g’inst itself to-day, an’ 
the goin’s on we do have. Ain’t the cream too 
purty? Richard ’s my man. The other may 
know law, but he don’t know how to help a 
woman out. Sam, Sam, turn your hand here.” 


'[237] 


CHAPTER XV. 


lydia’s wedding. 

Richard's thoughts were far away as he 
played the wedding march. The front room 
w'as made very festive with garlands of bright 
tinted flowers which he had artistically ar- 
ranged. The bride looked very sweet in her 
simple gown of black, relieved by the spray of 
white flowers she carried. The doctor had 
never been more severe in manner, and he be- 
came more and more nervous as behind him 
stood two weeping maidens, which at length 
he turned upon in desperation : 

“Quit your fuss, girls!” Then the parson 
calmly proceeded. Who had ever heard of such 
a thing at a wedding? Mrs. Fletcher knew 
that it would bring bad luck, and Seenie looked 
at Sam in dismay. But had she not warned the 
bride who was undisturbed? — and it might 
have been because a title was being bestowed 
upon her. 

It was a relief to all when the long ceremony 
was concluded, and the bride in a soft tone 
asked Bertram for some water. 

[238] 


UNCLE SAM 


“ Teresa, get your mother some water at 
once.” His tone made her weep afresh and 
Reuben came to her assistance. His big heart 
was very much agitated at the distressing scene 
and he felt that he was to blame in some way. 
He had never seen Teresa looking prettier with 
the flowers in her hair adding color to her face. 

“Bertram, dear, I wish you would fan me 
for I am so very warm.” Lydia smiled up at 
him and he replied kindly: 

“I don’t wonder. It was warm work saying 
all that long speech. I’m glad it’s over with. 
If I was a parson I’d cut it short, too much 
agony.” 

“You ort to be used to it by this time, Doc.” 

“Mrs. Fletcher, you don’t get used to this 
sort of thing. Practice doesn’t make perfect. 
Lavinia, fan your mother while I get her an 
ice.” Lavinia scowled at him for she did not 
want to leave her sister with Reuben for he 
had never appeared so devoted as to-night and 
it was not wise to leave them alone. 

“Now the doctor have set you younger folks 
a good pace an’ let the fun keep up.” 

“They’ll be no fun for Lydia Briggs,” said 
Mrs. Fletcher to Belle. “I was jest thinkin’ of 
Rebecca an’ that sweet Mary he driv’ into their 
graves with his harsh words, but women ’ll 
never l’arn it seems. I think Seenie made the 
match to git rid o’ one of ’em. She’ll try to 
[ 239 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

push one of the girls off on Rube but he’s talc- 
in’ his good time.” 

“An’ he’ll keep on doin’ it for he ain’t goin’ 
to git fooled by ’em.” Mrs. Tucker, her right 
hand neighbor, looked very wise as she made 
this remark. “Look how Teresa ’s settin’ up 
to him an’ she’s dried her eyes. But the way 
that new wife ’s doin’ old Doc. gits me. Watch 
’em, Ansie. Never would ’a’ thought he’d wait 
on a woman.” 

“What’s he been doin’ ’cept that all his 
life?” 

“Not waitin’ on ’em that way. How she do 
laugh ’s gay ’s a girl — she’s a nice ledy. I likes 
her better than her girls. The Doc’s alwus had 
his pay an’ he’ll git it here. Now look at that, 
Teresa’s got Rube an’ how mad the t’other is 
at her. Think of poor Mary an’ that poor 
Rebecca.” Thus did his guests remark upon 
his affairs, yet the doctor did not seem to be far 
from happy on the occasion of his third matri- 
monial venture, as he attended to the wants of 
the exacting bride and none had ever demanded 
more than this one. 

“Who got the ring?” asked Vallie, as they 
laughed and chatted over the beautiful white 
cake which Seenie served with pride. 

No one spoke and again she repeated the 
question. 


[240] 


UNCLE SAM 


“I had hoped to get it,” said Teresa, look- 
ing at Reuben. 

“Rings do not look well on your fingers, sis- 
ter, but mine need jewels for they are so plain.” 
Reuben was embarrassed. 

“I know I put the ring in the cake. Every- 
body look for it.” Reuben cleared his throat 
and enjoyed his cake. 

“I know I didn’t get it and I am so disap- 
pointed,” complained Teresa. 

“It is not in my cake,” volunteered her sister. 

“I believe Vallie lost it.” 

“No, Lydia, I put it in the cake.” 

“I — I — guess — I have it!” Reuben managed 
to make a feeble explanation for he could not 
conscientiously remain longer silent. Yet he 
dreaded making this announcement. 

“Indeed! And you have the ring, Mr. 
Simpkins?” Teresa beamed brightly upon the 
unfortunate young man. 

“Yes’m, here it is.” He displayed it before 
her pleased eyes. 

“Isn’t it a lovely ring!” Lavinia covetously 
admired it. 

“I don’t care for rings myself, I never wear 
’em, and what am I to do with it, ladies?” 

“You could give it to some one who would 
appreciate it.” He smiled at Lavinia’s sugges- 
tion. The others smiled as well. He contem- 
plated it seriously, revolving it about in his 
[241] 


UNCLE SAM 


slow manner, and he began to think that every- 
thing was coming out all right. This was a 
sign that he was to wed and which one would 
have the ring? Uncle Sam wished to help him 
out and he contrived cleverly to engage 
Lavinia’s attention, leaving him the long-de- 
sired opportunity. 

“Miss Teresa, you know that all along IVe 
been trying tell you how much — ah — I care for 
you, and wanting to know if you and I could 
tread the flowery paths of ease together where 
love will lead us on that springtime way. I’m 
not so young as once I was and you are not — 
and my bald head might match well with 
your ” 

“Crowsfeet,” put in a cold voice, and Teresa 
found Lavinia smirking wickedly at her. 

“I think you are very rude; I would not in- 
terrupt a gentleman when he was telling a lady 
something — very interesting — which she want- 
ed to hear. I know that the ring will fit my 
finger.” Reuben fell to studying her hand 
which she held out for inspection. 

“Your finger is too fat, but mine is just 
right.” He liked the looks of Lavinia’s long 
fingers, they looked more capable, and he would 
put the important question to her when the 
right moment arrived. While the ring was safe 
in his pocket he was contented in mind. Uncle 
Sam was enjoying this little side performance 
[242] 


UNCLE SAM 


and he now began interesting Teresa in one of 
his latest jokes. 

“Miss Lavinia,” looking over his shoulder 
to see that her sister was at a safe distance, 
“Miss Lavinia, you know that for some time 
I have been thinking of you and wanting to tell 
you and know if we could tread the flowery 
paths of life and love together. I am not as 
young as once I was ” 

“And you are not — don’t forget your speech, 
Reuben.” Teresa looked scornfully at them. 
“Lavinia could never wear the ring, for it is 
too large.” 

“Sam, which of these lovely ladies gets this 
beautiful ring? It seems that one should have 
it for it would adorn a finger, and I have no 
use for it. You settle the question.” 

“What rules go with the ring, Rube?” 

“We — 11, er — , Sam, I had not yet decided, 
perhaps the ladies would prefer just to take it 
— without any obligations on their part. I am 
quite agreeable — to any arrangements they 
choose to make — what will please all.” Uncle 
Sam laughed. 

“He, he, he, he! Now, Rube, put that ring 
on Teresa’s pretty fat finger.” His advice was 
promptly put into practice. Alas, the ring was 
too small. 

“I knew it,” proudly stated Lavinia. 

“Now, Rube, put it on her finger, an’ do try 

[243] 


UNCLE SAM 


to make it fit.” Alas, the ring was too large. 

“I knew it.” Teresa was delighted. 

“I will have to find some other hand, Sam. 
Perhaps this is a sign that I should keep it 
myself.” He placed it on his little finger and 
smiled at them. Their little comedy was hast- 
ily brought to a close. The lamp shade had 
burst into flames, being of flimsy crepe paper, 
and heroically did Reuben rush to the rescue. 
It was but a moment before he had extinguished 
the blaze, burning his hand in so doing. 

“I will bandage it.” Lavinia hastened to 
procure the necessary materials, and hurriedly 
returned with them, offering sympathy as she 
bent over the injured member. 

“It don’t matter, Miss Lavinia, ’tain’t worth 
bothering about.” 

“How noble for you to say so, Mr. Simp- 
kins, but it makes my heart ache for you to en- 
dure such suffering. I know it will soon be less 
painful.” Like a mother hovering over a sick 
child she continued to administer to him until 
she was opposed by Teresa who brought forth 
more bandages and medicines. 

“Sister Lavinia, you know that father always 
said I was the best surgeon. You remember 
how he taught me to properly attend the in- 
jured. I will see that this burn does not leave 
a scar.” Teresa had never appeared so capa- 
ble as she did administering to his wants. 

[ 244 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Miss Teresa, it’s all right. I’m feeling 
quite comfortable. Just leave it alone so the 
air won’t get to it.” 

“One moment and you will be well cared 
for.” She knelt beside his chair and removed 
the bandages and placed more about his hand. 
“Now, there is no cause for worry.” Her face 
was warm from her exertions and his was 
flushed also. 

“Teresa! Have you no heart! The poor 
man is suffering with untold agony, and yet you 
torture him with your unkind treatment. I 
placed those bandages tenderly upon the burns 
and you should not have removed them, for 
you do not understand surgery in the least. I 
will see that he is not mistreated.” Without 
more words she undid the other’s work and 
then smiled complacently. Teresa was very 
angry and said she would have her way. A 
quarrel would have ensued had not Seenie come 
to the rescue in her practical way settling the 
dispute by attending to the burns herself. 

“Now, Rube, that’s going to stay, for I put 
it here. Don’t you know that burns should be 
covered tight ’s c’n be. I reckon you’ll do 
now. That ring looks well on your finger.” 

“I would like to put a ring on your finger to- 
night, oh, Vallie, why could we not marry — 
now?” She looked at Yeager with startled 
eyes. She had been talking interestedly with 

[245] 


UNCLE SAM 


his sister, and the more they were together the 
closer became their friendship. He was de- 
lighted that Gertrude had come. Inasmuch as 
he was pleased, Richard was the more uneasy 
for nothing passed unnoticed by him. Yeager 
had a strong card and he was very ill at ease 
and unhappy. He had never known a hand- 
somer man than the lawyer and to-night his 
manly beauty was never so magnetic. His eyes 
were very powerful, they seemed to dominate 
the girl at his side with unusual strength of 
will, and seeming to be drawn resistlessly she 
followed him out into the night where soft se- 
ductive moonlight flooded the arching trees. 

“Oh, you know that you are saying what is 
quite impossible — how could we marry — to- 
night? We are not prepared ” 

“I can be ready — soon. Listen, Vallie, listen 
— you know that I cannot give you up — and I 
want you — to-night. Gertrude would be so 
glad; she loves you as a sister.” 

“Oh, don’t, don’t — it is wild — wild ” 

His face was close to her and his eyes held her 
with a power for good or ill. Moment by mo- 
ment her resolution was going — going — she 
fought against him but she knew that she was 
being vanquished. She was not herself. Her 
eyes were glowing with aroused passions — her 
lips were parted in rapturous curves. What 
eyes! What lips! And they would be his! 

[246] 


UNCLE SAM 


He realized that this was his chance. It was 
the psychological moment, for the events of 
the past hours had attuned her to his wishes 
and he knew that he had never felt more mas- 
terful. 

“Vallie, I will be back — soon. You be ready 
— tell Gertrude — but no one else. Ah, my 
darling — my darling! I will be good to you 
— always! Have no fear.” His face was lit 
by true love for he had never known a hap- 
pier moment. He had forgotten all that he 
had wanted now — except that he wanted this 
woman who made him forget everything but 
herself. Money! What was money? He 
would have thrown to the far winds all wealth 
for the sweet privilege of holding her in close 
embrace. 

She hastened for a wrap in his absence, but 
told no one. 

“I will take you in my auto at once and we 
will get the license. It will take but a short 
time. Get in, dear, and we’ll slip away and 
they will not be the wiser until ” 

“Oh, don’t say it. I cannot think or ” 

He laughed with the delight of a boy as he 
tucked her in the big seat and pushed the lever. 

“They will think we are taking a little spin 
to keep the moon company. Isn’t this roman- 
tic, Vallie? It suits my fancy — running away 
with the little girl, kidnapping her. Ah, dear- 
1247] 


UNCLE SAM 

est, you can’t ever know how I feel now. Why, 
Vallie, I will make you happy! I will make 
you love me — soon. You are one of those 
women who learn after marriage — not before, 
and you do like me; don’t you trust me, dear? 
I will make good.” He meant all he said, yet 
he put away for the moment that which should 
have been most in his thoughts. It was there 
to the exclusion of all else — but it was skulking 
and he tried to avoid its loathsome presence — * 
it told him to remember — it told her to beware! 

Yet whirling under the bright stars and the 
moonlight but intoxicated their young blood to 
recklessness, and caution had no place, for he 
made passionate love and she listened. She 
was under his complete guidance, seeming to 
lose herself in his own strength, and he put 
forth all his mental and physical powers to ut- 
terly conquer her fainting heart. 

Ah — what would she not sign away? 

There came gradually stealing over her a 
sense of peace, as though the struggle was to be 
over — at last. It was not until the end seemed 
so near that she fully realized how she had been 
wearied — by indecision. Now Fate was taking 
her ruthlessly and she would not refuse to obey 
its call. It was strange that she did not think 
of the one who had been most in her thoughts 
— of Richard. Perhaps it was because she dared 
not! Perhaps that had his image come before 
[248] 


UNCLE SAM 


her she would have lacked necessary courage — • 
and knew it? He seemed far away and the 
other so near. She believed in Yeager’s love. 
Would it not be best after all? Was it not 
intended to be? There was no reason — only 
the refusal of her heart’s last sweet surrender. 
Would she give it? Ah, what is love? Did 
she love this man? He said that he would 
make her love. Could he? It was over — he 
had won. 

“Gertrude, come to my room.” 

“Where is Roscoe — what makes you look so 
excited, dear? Your cheeks are crimson — and 
what eyes!” 

“I am going to marry him — now.” She 
spoke in a half frightened voice. Come, ar- 
range my hair. This white gown is quite ap- 
propriate. It was my graduation dress. Isn’t 
it wild — dear, don’t say a word — for I can’t 
bear it.” 

“Vallie, I am too happy to talk — how I re- 
joice in his happiness, too. I did not think of 
this when I came to see you.” As Gertrude 
talked in a soft voice she worked over the lux- 
uriant tresses with tender touch. She smiled in 
her charming way as she piled high one lovely 
curl above another, and Vallie did not know 
the face that was reflected from her mirror. 
Surely that was not plain little Vallie Saylor. 
She had admired society beauties and the face 

[249] 


UNCLE SAM 


was not unlike those she had watched with such 
interest at the theatre. 

“Vallie, you are too beautiful for any man!” 
A shade of sadness crept into the voice. “I 
will wish you all the happiness that I have 
missed.” 

“Dear Gertrude, you are so sweet, and I 
will try to make you forget. Together you and 
I will begin life — anew. You are yet young and 
you must forget your misery. How prettily 
you have arranged my hair. What a difference 
it makes. I am so tall and stately — wh — y will 
he know his bride?” 

“Vallie!” Belle stood looking at them with 
a curious expression on her face. 

“Belle, come here, dear.” She held our her 
hand and tried to speak but the look in the eyes 
of her friend kept her mute. 

“You are going to marry — him?” A sud- 
den despair seemed to fill the room, such a cry 
as might come from a heart filled with both 
fear and love. 

“Yes, Belle. Will you not kiss me and wish 
me joy?” 

She turned from the outstretched hand as 
though it were a serpent with deadly sting. 

“Belle! Belle! Are you going to let any- 
thing come between us? Think of the days we 
have played together — how we have studied 
over text books by the hour — how we have 
[250] 


UNCLE SAM 


twined our arms about one another as we sank' 
into dreams ” 

Belle became paler and paler, looking at her 
as though she would never speak again. Her 
voice seemed to have left her entirely and help- 
lessly she stood fixing her dull eyes upon the 
pleading girl. 

“It is hard, Belle — will you make it harder? 
Won’t you come to me and say you still love 
me, dear?” Vallie’s eyes were flooded with 
glistening tears for her heart was much moved 
at the attitude of one she wanted to share in 
her happiness. 

A voice was calling from the doorway and 
Gertrude went and spoke quietly with her 
brother. She could not understand the cause 
of ill-will between the girls, but she would leave 
them to adjust matters. A sudden sadness 
filled her, a premonition of disaster, yet was it 
not the memories of the past striking like angry 
waves against her heart. 

“Roscoe, Roscoe, look at me!” He noted 
the strained expression in her eyes and the 
trembling of her lips. 

“If you are sure she will be happy!” Her 
voice was anxious and yet he met her eyes bold- 
ly, impatient at any delay to his plans. 

“Little sister, have no fears. I will make her 
happy. Is she ready?” 

Vallie appeared at the door and above her 

[251] 


UNCLE SAM 

rose the frightened eyes of a very miserable 
woman. There had been no reconciliation for 
Belle had seemed powerless to interfere so 
tossed was her wild, beating heart, torn be- 
tween love of this man and fear for her friend. 

She watched those two pass down the stair- 
way — on that new path that they must together 
tread forevermore. She reached out her hand 
blindly for everything seemed black before her 
as she leaned faintly against the balustrade. 

“Vallie, Vallie,” her voice died away in space, 
the cry from her penitent heart mingling with 
sweet melodious sounds which floated out with 
passionate appeal: 

“I want no stars in heaven to guide me; 

I need no moon, no sun to shine. 

While I have you, sweetheart beside me; 

While I know that you are mine” 

Vallie stood transfixed while the wondrous 
music filled her soul. He was singing to her — 
she was leaving him forever. She had forgot- 
ten the man at her side and his voice recalled 
her. , 

“I will speak to the minister.” 

“Don’t — I can’t marry you to-night — for I 
would break a promise.” The joy had died 
from his face and she left him and went toward 
Richard without a moment’s hesitation. He 
smiled at the angelic sweetness in her face. 

[252] 


UNCLE SAM 


“I must see you — come with me 1” 

“What is it, Vallie?” He was gazing at the 
mass of puffs and curls which adorned her head 
so becomingly. 

“Oh, Richard ” her voice was full of 

strange feeling. “I love that song — I always 
will — it saved me — saved me. I was going to 
marry — Roscoe Yeager!” Now he under- 
stood. 

“Vallie ! And you can tell me this?” 

“Yes, I cannot believe that I was going to do 
that thing but he begged me — pleaded — I 
thought it was right. Now I know that I was 
wrong — I am not ready — to be a wife!” 

“When you are I know whose wife you will 
be. My little wife!” He said the words so 
softly and she listened breathless. “Remember 
that you are engaged to Richard Randolph 
from this hour !” 

“No, no, Dick!” 

“I mean it! They would rob me of you and 
now I am warned! You are engaged to marry 
me and no other can ever have that right.” 

His wife! A vision thrilled her as to what 
that would be. His all — his life — his love! 

“It is impossible — remember your family — 
everything !” 

“I only remember that I want you — you !” 

“But my consent is not given.” For answer 
[ 253 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

he slipped upon her finger a white, scintillating 
jewel. 

“There ! I feel much better for I have car- 
ried it in my pocket long enough.” 

“I won’t wear it. I never wear rings.” 

“This one is placed upon that little finger 
with a wish and don’t you dare remove it. 
What a tiny little finger to have such power!” 

“Dick, you are impossible!” 

“Not for a husband, for I expect to be a 
model in my new role. Why, Vallie, I will 
astonish you before long. I have just found 
out myself — and how I can yet be a part of this 
big wonder age in which we live. I have so 
far droned life away — but now I have mastered 
my own lazy self. So you see with this new 
independence filling my soul I need but your 
love to complete my happiness. You have some 
love hidden away somewhere and I will yet find 
the place. You need not fear for that dream 
boy has become a man of purpose and deed 
will follow. You have awakened me — my 
own !” 

In his face there glowed the light of a love 
that burns but once — adoring his ideal. 

Hidden in the shadow of the hallway was a 
very unhappy white-faced woman who had 
groped her way down the stairs to warn her 
friend in time. In her hand was a crumpled 
letter. But another power had intervened, a 
[ 254 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

sweeter power, for one had been Hate, and the 
other Love. 

Yeager and his sister had quietly departed, 
and the other guests were leaving when Vallie 
and Richard, newly plighted, joined the merry- 
makers. The bride had bidden all adieu, but 
a hurry call for the doctor prevented her from 
going to the new home. It was arranged that 
they remain all night at the farm, since it was 
uncertain when her husband would return from 
the scene of the accident, for which the glorious 
Fourth of July was responsible. 

Reuben had offended both the sisters in a 
vain endeavor to please both, and Lavinia had 
scolded Teresa for dancing away her beautiful 
flesh for mere man’s enjoyment. The girls 
were in a bad humor since they had lost their 
mother and the ring as well, and Seenie was 
glad when they had locked themselves in their 
sacred chambers. She had tried to persuade 
Lavinia to give the guest room to the bride, but 
Lydia was forced to retire to a less desirable 
wing of the house. 

It was after midnight when Seenie was 
aroused by loud words proceeding from the 
bridal chamber and she shook Sam. 

“Sam, Sam, sunthin’s gone wrong with the 
doctor.” 

“Bet you that old bed ’s got out of whack, 
[ 255 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


an’ the old feller’ll split it into kindlin’ wood if 
it fools with him.” 

‘‘Lands, that’s ’bout what’s up! If them 
girls hadn’t been so cantankerous their ma ’d 
had the best room. They don’t care for nobody 
so’s they git what — they want — glad it ain’t 
Rube, an’ they’re fightin’ mad that he kept the 
ring. Better git up, Sam, for it’s gittin’ a sight 
worse an’ Lydia ’ll be scart to death by his 
actin’ up so on their weddin’ night. I feel ’s 
if I was to blame. My gracious thunder me! 
Sam!” 

“What’s the matter, Lydia?” Seenie had 
slipped hurriedly into the hall. 

“Don’t you come asking me what’s the mat- 
ter, Seenie Saylor. It’s a nice bed you fixed up 
for guests, when they had good ones at home.” 
She boldly opened the door as the doctor con- 
tinued to become more and more enraged, for 
as fast as he succeeded in tying one of the cords 
another would come loose, and if you have ever 
had experiences with the old-fashioned corded 
bed of our grandmother’s day you could appre- 
ciate his dilemma. He was working away, mut- 
tering strange, incoherent words that fairly 
seemed to make blue blazes in the atmosphere, 
“Get out of here, for you needn’t come grin- 
ning at me, for in another moment I’ll send this 
whole blasted thing somewhere.” He gave it 
a vicious kick which only hurt his foot, since he 
[256] 


UNCLE SAM 


had no shoes on, but he didn’t mind a little 
thing like that. Lydia stood smiling, and now, 
she laughed outright, and he called loudly: 

“Don’t be a fool , Lydia; I say, don’t be a 
fool » 

“You’re the fool, Bertram dear, and oh, how 
very funny you do look when you kick that 
way!’’ Now he flung himself against the bed 
and roughly yelled at her in his rage, for no 
one had ever dared laugh at one of his tan- 
trums and he had had many in his time. All 
the women had been afraid of these oft-recur- 
ring spells, and to have a wife who would stand 
up and laugh in his face was unbearable, espe- 
cially when others looked on, enjoying the 
scene. For now there appeared many heads, 
more or less towsled, inquiring at the door as 
to what was the matter. 

“Bertram dear is having a little fun, and we 
are helping him enjoy it.” 

“Oh, mother, we warned you, and now we 
are glad that you see the other side.” Teresa 
spoke for her sister as well as herself for La- 
vinia was too sleepy to make any remarks. 

“I like the other side very much, dear, and I 
had no idea how amusing things could be. 
Seenie, I am so glad that you gave us this bed 
for it has afforded dear Bertram much use of 
an unknown tongue which I am not acquainted 
with. Your father suits me very well indeed, 
[ 257 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


girls, and now you may all retire, for I see that 
the bed is in good condition and if we have any 
more excitement I will call you.” The doctor 
meekly got into bed and she said sweetly: 
“Good night, Bertram.” 

“Don’t be a fool, Lydia.” 

“Old Doc’s got his mate at last, Seenie. 
Wh — y, Mary ’d cried out her eyes an’ Becky 
’d done ’bout the same, but Lydia’s the girl 
for me. She did look funny in her little night 
cap an’ didn’t he cut a figure kickin’ at that 
bed.” 

“It might ’s well come fust as last an’ the 
tamin’ ’s begun on the weddin’ night. Men like 
him ain’t really mad — they’re jest pretendin’ 
lettin’ off steam, but they manages to bluff most 
folks. He’s jest actin’ an’ if we won’t soon be 
doin’ that thing ourselves.” 

“I’ll not git stage struck, I bet. Think of 
them city folks cornin’ an’ — ” 

“Hesh, Sam, for I’m that wore out with sis- 
ters an’ fellers an’ company an’ weddin’s an’ 
plays. I don’t hear no more fuss so guess the 
lamb an’ lion’s all right ag’in.” 

“Yep, all’s quiet. Let us hope it’s peace.” 

“Shet up, Sam, for I want to go to sleep.” 

“Sam, I wonders what was up to-night, sun- 
thin’ was on foot for Vallie an’ his sister was 
upstairs an’ Jinny seemed to know a secret — 
what c’d it ’a’ been?’ 

[258] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Don’t know — go to sleep!” 

“Sam, you’re writin’ on your night shirt ag’in 
an’ I’ll not Stan’ for ’t.” 

“Jest a good sayin’ for the book: ‘Marryin’ 
ain’t alwus tamin.’ ” 

“Better say: “Ev’ry man’s tamer ’s born.” 
After a silence: “Lydia’s run off from her girls 
jest like an old cat steals away from its pesky 
kittens. An’ I’ve got ’em on my hands ’s slick 
’s a button. ’F everythin’ don’t come sailin’ 
to the farm. Got everybody ’s babies but my 
own. Sam, hear me now, go to sleep an’ quit 
that scribblin’.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


REMEMBRANCE. 

“Do YOU remember how we played as chil- 
dren on the shore, building our castles of sand, 
that were washed away at our feet, bare and 
brown, which the water kissed? I often think 
of those faraway pleasures, for then was budd- 
ed the castle of dreams, that has always re- 
mained with me through childhood, boyhood 
and in manhood it was to become a reality. 

“You were the spirit of that fair vision, for 
your childish heart had whispered to mine; 
even at that tender age love had been awak- 
ened, and my little sweetheart was to become 
wife in later years. She and I would build a 
more substantial castle on firmer ground, out 
of danger of flood or storm. She would be 
sheltered and protected by my loving care, and 
the sorrows that frequently stained her rosy 
cheeks with tear drops would come no more. 
I would guard that castle against the troubles 
of life, and together would we two glean the 
best, helpful and happy. 

“But the castle must sink into that oblivion, 
[260] 


UNCLE SAM 

as did the others of the long ago. It will be 
only a sad part of the land of Regret. 

“To see it vanish before my eyes gives me 
untold pain. It means so much to me. Do you 
remember the day when I dragged you from be- 
neath the hoofs of the horses that were about 
to crush your little life? You put your arms 
about my neck, yes, Belle, you did, and I still 
see your white, frightened face. I was always 
rescuing you from some unlooked for plight, 
and perhaps this is the reason why I feel that I 
was to be your protector through life. I can 
no more rob myself of this idea than I can rob 
myself of life itself. It is so strong within me 
that I cannot uproot it though I have tried very 
hard, for I feel that there is no room for hope 
— now. 

“Belle, you can understand the way things 
look to me, for it is the same with you. This 
should give you a little sympathy if not love. 
With me is the tender linking of the years; 
that is my excuse — what is yours? There is 
nothing in your favor — you can hope only for a 
waste of heart — of life. Oh, Belle, why will 
you throw away your chance — of something 
better?” 

“Don’t — you have not the right to speak of 
this to me, Walt. Your own disappointment 
should make you silent.” 

“I have the right, and this humiliation you 
[261] 


UNCLE SAM 


put upon yourself is worse than that which I 
am bowed under. My love is noble — but yours 
is ignoble. My love is true — but yours cannot 
be for it has a false foundation. You love that 
man, and did you know him as he really is — » 
you might despise. I know you — you are a 
woman who would give her last drop of blood 
to those near and dear to her. That is the 
great pity — that you ever met — him. Ah, the 
pity of it! Yet you are strong enough to over- 
come if you would. Belle, won’t you for my 
sake try to break away from this feeling that 
is making you so unhappy? Can’t I see it in 
your face, don’t it show plainly in your every 
move or word. Love should uplift, but this is 
only dragging you down. And no one has the 
right to let grief or disappointment ruin his life. 
It is cowardly — it is a sin against yourself as 
well as others. If you could live with that 
man you might change your mind in a very 
short time. I wish you could be disillusioned. 
Let me draw a picture before your eyes of the 
one you love.” She winced as he spoke in his 
bold, straightforward way, but he was deter- 
mined to do the duty which he felt was urgent. 

“Roscoe Yeager is one who will love a wom- 
an who gives the larger share. He wants all 
the best in life — beauty, money and the power 
they bring to their possessor. He would meas- 
ure everything by a worldly standard. He 
[262] 


UNCLE SAM 


looks before he leaps — you leap before you 
look. But it is like you, Belle, for did you not 
always go headlong into new experiences, and 
this is the same. Think how you would reck- 
lessly charge down a dangerous place when I 
taught you to ride a wheel, then your first ex- 
perience in swimming — do you remember how 
you kicked and spluttered and worked so 
hard? — it is your way, to take things hard.” 

“You see a much easier way? But you can- 
not know how hard that would be — for me. If 
a woman doesn’t love a man what could be 
more distasteful?” She was angry at him and 
in this mood she felt she wanted to hurt him, 
and she did. 

“The very way you look at me makes me — 
hate you — the very way you wear your hat — 
the way you walk, the words you speak ! I am 
sorry — oh, yes, sorry for everything — sorry I 
was born — but I cannot help it. Is it my fault 
that you do not suit my fancy and that some 
one else does? I have always had a hard time 
— Walt — you know that! Don’t you know 
how my youth was spent in disagreeable tasks 
and the hard words I bore and the lashings I 
had to take in silence. Hard times with money 
hard has been my experiences — you under- 
stand.” 

“So well that that is why I have wanted to 
take you where you might enjoy a little rest — 
[263] 


UNCLE SAM 


for you have always had to be a mother to the 
rest, a child hanging upon your little hip since 
you were but one yourself. I wanted to give 
you a home where pleasure, not work, might 
bring a smile to your face. You have been a 
little sacrificed woman from earliest years, and 
now you want to continue to go on and be a 
slave to something or somebody. Why will 
you not try to take the easier road? Vallie 
would swim as if she had always been a mer- 
maid; she floated away without effort ” 

“Don’t speak of her. Of course she has al- 
ways had the sunny side. She gets all — all — 
and I get nothing!” 

“I only hope that she will not get — what you 
prize so highly. The other is a man whom any 
woman would do well to marry. He is the 
finest fellow I could imagine. Why, Belle, he 
makes me feel so weak and trifling, but he has 
had opportunities that did not come to me. 
You know that I have been like you — handi- 
capped from the beginning. We had environ- 
ments that made it necessary for us to fight 
every inch of our way. While I worked in the 
fields I studied out what little future I could 
command, but now I know that the heart not 
the head rules our lives. I might have every- 
thing offered to me in worldly advancement, but 
if I had not you beside me to enjoy all it would 
be as dross. I cannot make any plans without 
[264] 


UNCLE SAM 


you, and I cannot go away from you even 
though you tell me to do so and never come 
back. Oh, Belle, do you know how those 
thoughtless words wound? Yet I cannot but 
forgive you.” 

“I wish with all my heart that you would go 
far away — and never return. You keep me in 
a state of unrest, for, Walt, I can’t ever marry 
you ! You have no right to stay and torture me. 
I have tried to care — have I not done my best? 
I know that you would do all in your power — 
to make up for what I’ve lost in life — but you 
could only add to the pain. And why make an- 
other miserable? Perhaps if I had not known 
you cared so much I might have felt different 
— but you know my perverse nature. You have 
been too devoted. You know base servility in 
us scorns the true and kneels in worship before 
the false. We turn aside from those who love 
us, not accepting their trust. They are replaced 
by new idols and tossed away like an old shoe 
which has served us well. We will do more for 
new friendships than for old. It is because one 
is sure and the other isn’t and the uncertainty 
lends the enchantment.” 

“Which I would like to break. I have 
thought much about you, Belle, in the last days, 
and I wonder if there is any way for a man to 
win a woman against her will? When she is so 
strongly opposed as you are. I may care too 
[265] 


UNCLE SAM 


much — but that is necessary in a happy mar- 
riage. Women seem to sometimes prefer harsh 
words from one rather than kind ones from an- 
other. I am desperate and think I will give up. 
After the play is over I will go away — I’ve 
done my best for you — for myself — and I have 
failed. 

“I will begin anew — forget that past which is 
woven about you, for as I said, no one has the 
right to allow his life to be ruined as mine 
would be did I remain. It’s hard to give it all 
up — it was such a sweet dream, dear — I had 
even planned the little home we would enjoy 
together. I regret to leave it all — the little 
home in fancy that I hoped to build with my 
own hands. The little children that I have be- 
come so interested in — for they like me. They 
do not turn away as you do, they like to see me 
coming of an early morn, and bring me flowers 
they have plucked along the wayside. 

“In their innocence and trust we find the best 
in life. I like my little flock and they like me. 
I have done well with my work here — it’s sur- 
prising how some of the big boys have come 
along under me. I can make them learn. I 
think I am in my right element. You know how 
they have been whipped at home and at school 
— they respond now to my better methods. That 
Jones boy was the worst, and after one racket 
we have had no more fights. He bids fair to 
[266] 


UNCLE SAM 


be the best one in the room. You would never 
come over to see us at our work and play — well, 
it is all right. I will leave the boys and girls 
to some other hand, but when I go my heart 
stays. Yes, Belle, it will not leave for you can- 
not force your heart. 

“My little children never said they hated me, 
and your unjust tongue has even told me that 
— heedless girl — ever unruly in your turbulent 
spells; who better understands? I am the type 
of stolid manhood that you should have, for all 
those hasty little storms would never break my 
tranquility. Perhaps it is my patience that 
wearies you, but you need that to calm the ruf- 
fled spirit. Blaze away, little girl, and enjoy 
the pastime. Whether they be words of hate 
or of love from your lips I am ready to listen, 
and I know that you do not mean all you say. 
You are troubled, and that is what I cannot en- 
dure — to see you unhappy. What is my own? 
As nothing to yours?” 

“Oh, I am so miserable!” She hid her face 
in her hands and he stood looking upon her 
with a great pity in his honest face. His arms 
were folded across his broad chest and he stood 
like a statue for some moments. He dreaded 
to see her in such a mood for he knew her tem- 
perament so well — knew failings and the wild 
unreason that would often sway. 

“Belle, you are so bright, so much within you 
[267] 


UNCLE SAM 


if you would only make the most of yourself. 
You have been cheated in life, as I have often 
said, but yet you have left much that others 
never get through those advantages you crave. 
Your strong individuality makes possible for so 
much additional force if it was used for a good 
end. Belle, there is one I want to teach, the 
one who would not listen. 

“I want to read to you from that big book 
which I have studied thoughtfully, of the trees, 
of the birds, of the voice that speaks in wind 
and sunshine. From it you can be taught that 
which will curb the restlessness that lies im- 
planted in you from your birth. You have al- 
ways been unhappy and I would try to teach you 
contentment. You remember the day you quar- 
relled with your father and was going to use 
a weapon on yourself? Yes, that is another 
time I saved you from that destructive self that 
is so ungovernable.” 

“And what was the good of being spared? 
See what you brought upon me.” She spoke in 
a harsh voice. 

“While I feel hopeless, yet there must be a 
way out!” He paced the floor with head 
down, his usual gravity disturbed. What was 
the solution of their problem? There must be 
one. Could it be that after all they must go 
their separate ways? 

“I heard you talking and laughing last night 
[268] 


UNCLE SAM 


with Richard Randolph, and you seemed to be 
so happy. Your merriment is so infectious 
when you turn it loose, and I wonder why I 
never bring that side of your nature to the sur- 
face. Am I such a prosy fellow; so dull and 
stupid that I chase away all your mirth? We 
used to romp together, you — and I. Don’t you 
remember the big times we used to have when 
the new-mown hay had filled the barn with its 
pungent odor? Oh, Belle, what would I not 
give to go back to those days — life seemed so 
free from responsibility then ! And what com- 
rades we were — you and I. You told me all 
your little secrets, for I was almost as much 
a chum as Vallie; now you don’t like either 
of us. I have seen your cold glances to the one 
whom you thought of so fondly, and you turn 
from her — what can I expect? She has been 
such a true friend — you will never fully know. 
She was talking about you the other night as 
you and Randolph rehearsed. She spoke of 
the light that played about your expressive face, 
a face you would pick out in a crowd. You are 
not making the most of yourself, and, after all, 
even though there have been mistakes, even 
though life hasn’t treated us on the square, yet 
isn’t it better to continue to strive and get over 
the lost ground? Pick up all the best that is 
left to us and weave our future, working in the 
bright and not the dull shades. 

[269] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Belle, we are young, and if we set our minds 
to it we could yet spend many hours in useful 
study together. I want a companion to share 
my life in all its various interests; I don’t want 
a mere housekeeper who has her duties apart, 
and I mine. I would share ours together. You 
might not find it so cheerless for I would ex- 
pend in the warmth of love — oh, Belle, is there 
no chance — no chance?” His voice died away 
and she looked at him with misery in her 
face. 

“Walt — Walt, you do not have any feel- 
ing — or you would go away. Why offer a stone 
to a starving person? Every word but pierces 
my poor heart — a mockery! I can’t see how 
you should want to marry me. You know that 
I was born under an unlucky star; hasn’t my 
life proved this? Doomed from the beginning, 
and only bad luck would fall to you did you 
share your fortune with mine. I cannot get 
away from it. It has pursued me until I am 
ready to surrender — at last.” 

“Bah! How foolish you talk! We make 
our own lives mostly, and you have it in your 
own hands. I am sorry that you cannot rid 
yourself of that absurd notion — that you were 
born unlucky. Luck, what is luck? Good judg- 
ment and pushing ahead. When I see an un- 
lucky man so called I know what is the trouble. 
He doesn’t do his best and then blames it upon 
[270] 


UNCLE SAM 

poor old luck who has to take more than his 
share.” 

“You cannot convince me to that philosophy. 
I never will believe but that some are born with 
the gold spoon and some are not. If you watch 
closely the lives of some great men and women 
you will note that everything came their way 
easily.” 

“Perhaps it may look that way to an out- 
sider, but you do not know of all the strivings 
and the struggles to attain that good fortune. 
Dickens said that his genius was just hard work 
and I think that luck is much the same.” 

“You bore me with your goodness and your 
optimism, Walt, I wish you were wicked like I 
am, and then I might like you better. But the 
thought of it! Quite impossible. That is why 
we do not agree. I tell you frankly that — you 
are too sure. I want a dare-devil who will 
lead me a dance. I never could like the con- 
ventional goody-goody type — which means you, 
old Walt. You know that Thunder was my 
father and Lightning my mother; I was cradled 
in the deep. Tempestuous has been my life — 
and I would not want the calm. It might pall 
upon me. Now, imagine how dull life would 
be with a man like you. I want the unusual. I 
want to be yearning for what can never be — 
I don’t believe I even want it to be — for I 
couldn’t then be unhappy. Misery, misery — 
[271] 


UNCLE SAM 


be my portion forevermore.” She was sarcas- 
tic, gay, and now ended in a tired little voice 
full of dejection. 

“I’m sorry that I’m not the right man, Belle. 
But I can’t be a dare-devil, and how long could 
we live together if I were? You say my smile 
is too good-natured, but if it were not we would 
be making the hair fly. Perhaps after you mar- 
ried me, you would find that I suited better than 
you now think. It is the unconventional in you 
that pleases me — you and I can gypsy through 
life, and will not be fettered. We will — but 
why senseless chatter? I came to have some 
understanding with you — and like all the other 
times — it has been a waste of time. You seem 
to dislike me more to-day than ever before. If 
I was a hero in a novel I might groan and wring 
my hands but I will quietly slip away and leave 
you to think it all out alone.” 

“Think ! I don’t want to do that, for I have 
thought until I am weary, for it goes around in 
a circle. But one thing I know — I should miss 
your coming — you know, Walt, that I don’t 
mind telling you everything — my badness and 
all. But I don’t believe you or anybody really 
knows me; I wonder sometimes how despicable 
1 could be — if I was tempted. I am shocked at 
myself of late, and you may not wonder at any- 
thing I should do. I am at the place where 
danger signals are needed. Yes, but I don’t 
[272] 


UNCLE SAM 

care. You know the mood, Walt, I am fitted to 
the proper role for doesn’t it appeal? You 
see by my rendition that the spirit is my own. 
She is going to win out — but am I? Yes, look 
after me, Walt, I need you — I need you!” 
There was such a tragic look on her face and 
in her words that he could not forget. “Do you 
remember the time you pulled me out of the 
water when — I had accidently fallen in? I was 
so angry because you dragged me to shore by 
my feet, in such unbecoming style. Walt, Walt, 
you have always been my evil genius — spying 
about when I was trying to have some fun.” 

“I know you had planned to be washed 
ashore with a pale face of the dead, but I pre- 
ferred the other way though the small boys 
hooted at us. Yes, little girl, you have caused 
me lots of trouble in your day, and I expect 
some time to get my reward. Life-saving 
medals in — well, I could name the kind I like 
the best.” 

“Dear old boy! Now, there’s one thing I 
want you to always remember — will you prom- 
ise me?” 

“Yes, Belle.” 

“If anything should ever happen — real jolly 
— you know, remember — how many things you 
have called to my mind to-day-^things that 
bring back the past — but it is gone and the fu- 
ture is uncertain — we never know — weak in 
[ 273 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


heart, Walt. You will remember that I tried 
to — love you — for I honestly have tried — what 
would I not give to make you happy ! To repay 
in little part — all you have so generously given. 
Take this friendship ring — will you? You do 
not need forget-me-nots — you will always re- 
member. That is what makes me so sad.” 

She placed the slender band of gold on his 
hand and tried to smile through her tears. He 
could not speak but gazed at the ring as though 
it was an evil thing which had charmed him, 
and a premonition of danger filled his mind. 

“Belle !” He took her by the shoulders with 
a strong grasp and looked searchingly into her 
set face. 

“I should like to punish you. You are mad !” 

“Quite, Walt.” She wiped her red eyes. 
“But you know what I have ever been saved 
from — will come at last! No one can prevent, 
and — I wanted you to know. I could have left 
a tender message, but my own words will make 
you remember all I said. I do not wish to har- 
rass your soul but impress upon you the one 
great fact — I will be at peace ! I have no fears 
of after-misery for it will be the dreamless 
sleep. It will atone for all the years of heart- 
aches — I will be forgiven now — by you. Tell 
me, dear old Walt, that you will then be my 
friend? Tell me that you will not deride me 

[274] 


UNCLE SAM 


— and blame me? Don’t I know what is best? 
Who else knows as well?” 

“I will do as you wish, dear girl. I will let 
you go your own way — take your course. 
Would I keep you from enjoyments that you 
picture? No, I have not the right. But you 
remember this — that it is pleasant to talk to me 
— and when that time comes and I am not 
there — you will regret. Yes, I don’t please you 
in the least, but my face would be welcome. I 
will leave you, for why plead to one who is 
quite mad?” 

“I am glad you realize the futility.” She 
was trying hard to be brave and pass it off light- 
ly, but the regrets of the last days were strong 
upon her. She felt that she must do something 
rash to gain repentance. She had not had a 
moment of sleep the night before for she was 
lashed by remorse. Suppose Vallie had mar- 
ried him ! Over and over this thought had tor- 
tured her until she felt that she was not worthy 
of life. She should speak, yet she could not for 
shame. For the time being her own love was 
forgotten. As though he had read her thoughts 
he said presently: 

“Belle, I don’t wonder at your words, for 
you acted so strangely last night. I was greatly 
worried — you looked so white — so tragic. I 
could not understand. I felt I must be near 
[ 275 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


you for I did not know what impulse you might 
take. What was the trouble ?” 

“Oh, Walt, I was nearly crazy! Don’t ever 
think that I have an ounce of goodness. I am 
not fit to be any man’s wife, not fit — do you 
hear? I am not fit to — live. I want you to give 
this little packet to — him — in case I leave it. I 
can trust you, Walt, yes, isn’t that everything — 
for some men can’t be trusted. He will know 
why I sent it — they belong to him.” 

“Belle, do you mean that he has written you 
these letters, for I know that is what it is?” 

“No, he has never written me a line — I have 
never written him one. I trust you, Walt — re- 
member.” 


[[276] 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A MILLION DOLLAR DEAL. 

Uncle Sam's older brother, Bram Saylor, 
had by careful business sagacity and saving 
qualities amassed considerable wealth. He was 
not in the least in sympathy with the impractical 
methods which had brought no worldly goods 
to his eccentric brother. He had small patience 
with his dreams and fruitless plans which he 
wrote to him on every conceivable subject. 

Nevertheless, Bram often thought of his dis- 
tant kinsman, though his many letters remained 
unanswered, which disregard in no wise cooled 
Uncle Sam’s enthusiasm to pen another project 
to him, the only necessity for its fulfillment be- 
ing money. 

Bram would often gaze upon a faded photo- 
graph of a lovely woman, which was the only 
bit of sentiment in his starved existence — his 
twig of rosemary — which alone survived to 
keep his heart warm in his declining years. 

While he fostered the idea that there was 
nothing greater than the love of money, treas- 
uring each dollar with affectionate regard, his 
brother was realizing more and more as the sun 
[ 277 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


of life reached its zenith that other things sur- 
passed. Bram had spent his life accumulating 
a pile of gold that would be left to others upon 
his demise, while Uncle Sam had gleaned those 
things of more worth, treasures as eternal as 
the ages which are inspired by gifts to mankind 
in deeds of love and good will. The yearning 
of his nature seemed at last to be stilled by the 
new purpose that imbued him to active plans 
for its accomplishment. 

No doubt the self-denying Bram would have 
decried this plan more than the others, but it 
was not divulged to any one; Uncle Sam hug- 
ging it to him with complacency only waiting 
and hoping that he would have his chanct. It 
seemed to him that all depended upon the legal 
battle over a rocky and seemingly barren plot 
of ground on Black Ridge. 

Bram knew more of his brother’s affairs than 
Uncle Sam was aware, and he moved in such a 
quiet, unobtrusive manner that none suspected 
the ill-nurtured mouse creeping about in dark 
corners attracting no attention. 

When he discovered that there was in the 
courts a lawsuit in which his relative was inter- 
ested, he at once began a thorough investiga- 
tion, for his native thrift and shrewdness could 
not see lost that which might prove of value. It 
was a hard struggle for this close-mouthed and 
close-handed pauper (he was really that in soul 
[278] 


UNCLE SAM 

and body) to advance in this gamble a surety 
for something uncertain, and for the first time 
in his life he took the plunge. It was a memor- 
able day in his life, and after he had won over 
his strong opposition he began in earnest to 
fight for justice in Uncle Sam’s cause. 

While the ones most interested Waited im- 
patiently for news each day of a victory, they 
were ignorant that their case had been turned 
into the channel of defeat by the heart of a 
woman. 

As soon as Yeager saw that his rival had 
supplanted him in the struggle for Vallie’s love 
he was very deeply chagrined at losing what 
had grown more and more of value ; his warmth 
of affection now turned into the cold baseness 
of unscrupulous designs. He had lost no time 
in seeking out Adams and laying before him a 
plan whereby they might pull together and find 
mutual benefit by co-operating in their evil ends. 
Adams did not hesitate to pay the price named 
for this service, for his legal supporters had 
already seen disaster ahead. Yeager’s unstint- 
ing hard work had struck with forceful blows 
and now in this arrangement Adams saw only 
success. 

Then that mouse lurking cautiously near be- 
gan its nibbling — seeking out facts with a keen- 
ness unequaled, it found that secret meetings 
took place between the young lawyer and the 

[279] 


UNCLE SAM 


older man. What could this mean? But one 
thing — that collusion had occurred. Bram 
knew more than any one. He watched with his 
bead like eyes every move of the one whom he 
had met before, and could have remembered 
vividly this same meeting, which had been the 
real cause of his being in Brighton. 

The case would soon be called and there was 
no time for a moment’s delay. There would 
be big surprises for a mouse can work with a 
will for good or ill when it wants to, and for 
the first time in its life this mouse had done 
a good turn for others. Yeager carried in his 
well-balanced head the plans he had formu- 
lated concerning Cleffalls and he talked over 
this project with Adams when they could enter 
upon their large paying venture. He had paid 
a high price for future dividends which might 
not bring any satisfaction; but we build in vari- 
ous ways, and these two belonged to that class 
who build crumbling foundations upon sandy 
ground. Sooner or later there will be destruc- 
tion. 

There were other problems, and Vallie had 
the solution to find to her own. She had 
said that she would not marry — estranging 
Richard from his family, but he was so insistent 
and she wondered if she had taken the right 
course after all. It was strange that in her 
many conjectures the thought of self had been 
[280] 


UNCLE SAM 


eliminated. It was all of others, but there now 
appeared another element. It was that of a 
woman’s heart communing freely with inani- 
mate things; the sunlight greeting her opening 
eyes at morn; the flowers, the birds, heard that 
voiceless voice telling a sweet secret. It had 
come so quietly — not with bold affront as in 
Belle’s case — but in its stealthy sweetness creep- 
ing unawares into the sacred shrine of woman- 
hood. 

Vallie would not acknowledge it though she 
recognized its presence — but she held herself 
aloof from utter renunciation, and looked for- 
ward to seeing Richard with both pleasure and 
dread. Yet she possessed a large share of her 
father’s philosophy that nothing was worth 
worry, and began to try to find her way from 
the tangle that enmeshed her. 

Vallie was one of the most persistent women 
when things did not suit her fancy, and she de- 
cided her only course would be to follow the 
same plan that Kaylis conceived. On one of 
her father’s visits to the city she accompanied 
him. It was a lovely summer day, and being 
left at the hotel she lost no time in seeking the 
one who was most in her thoughts. 

The mogul, no other than the great Peter 
Randolph, looked at the very attractive young 
lady and smiled in his genial fashion. 

“In what way may I serve you, Miss Leav- 
[281] 


UNCLE SAM 


ite?” His voice thrilled her and made her heart 
beat faster, but she smiled bravely as she said 
sweetly : 

“I would like to interest you in a business 
proposition.” From a paper she produced a 
photograph and handing it to him she spoke 
with great enthusiasm: 

“This is Cleffalls, and you can see that it is 
a magnificent power site. I know that you 
could develop this and I want you to buy the 
site. There is another party trying to get it, 
but he hasn’t enough money.” He looked at 
her quietly with a twinkle in his frank eyes, 
then at the picture. 

“Well, what price have you put upon this 
land?” he asked, not intending to purchase, 
and she did not even know that she had the 
right of sale, for even now the courts might 
have decided in favor of Oscar Adams. 

“One million dollars ” Vallie could scarce 
restrain a smile as she named the large figure, 
and his amused look made her the merrier. 

“That is not much; why don’t you ticket it 
for more?” 

“You will then consider it at a million?” He 
looked at her meditatively, and he was not 
thinking about the offer at all, but what a re- 
markably pretty woman Miss Leavite was and 
how little she knew about business matters. Yet 
her utmost sincerity won him over and he liked 
[282] 


UNCLE SAM 


her immensely so that he did not care to end 
this unusual interview. In a manner that his 
own son might have employed he began to draw 
out the stranger, and the more he talked the 
rosier became her cheeks and lips and the 
brighter her eyes, for he made her think of her 
lover in whose interest she had come. 

“In what way do you think this power site 
might be utilized so that I would be sure of get- 
ting back my million?” 

She clasped her hands as she said eagerly: 

“Electricity can do so many wonderful 
things. I expect to come to New York some 
day in an airship, the motive power centered in 
that falls.” 

“I am interested in railroads and I should 
not want to see this aerial way.” 

“Well, then you can do so many other 
things.” She was at a loss what to say and he 
said quickly: 

“I might investigate this proposition, and 
when could I see you again about it? though I 
could never pay a million for water.” 

“Too much watered stock already?” A 
smile played about the perfect mouth. 

“Yes.” He laughed and how refreshing was 
that hearty expansion of chest, and pleasant 
smile, for his eyes laughed too. 

“I will be in Brighton for awhile and I 
would like to show you this property. If you 
[283] 


UNCLE SAM 


could come down on the 12th I will meet you at 
the station and drive you over.” The novelty 
of the situation appealed strongly to him, and 
without any hesitation he agreed to her pro- 
posal. He was pleased and she left him with 
the parting words: “I think that it will be of 
mutual advantage that we meet again.” 

He could not forget the look nor the voice 
and he sat some moments smoking at his desk 
and thinking about Miss Leavite and Cleffalls. 
It seemed very strange that such an interview 
had taken place and as his thoughts floated up- 
ward in the rings of smoke he began to think 
he had been a victim of some delusion — how- 
ever, a very sweet one. He called in his pri- 
vate secretary and told him to cancel an en- 
gagement for the 1 2th. He looked very wise 
as his master informed him that he had a 
more important one for that day. 

Vallie was very glad when she saw him de- 
scend from the train and she appeared at once 
extending a small gloved hand. 

“I have the buggy ready, and we will lose no 
time in making our way to the falls.” How 
breezy and bright she was, seeming a part of 
the brilliant landscape as she gaily chatted 
while she whirled him along the wooded lanes 
bordering the river, for she had never been in 
merrier mood. It was very exciting kidnapping 
the great capitalist, and how astonished her 
[284] 


UNCLE SAM 

family would have been had they known of this 
madcap venture. She was in much higher 
spirits than when in the city, for now she was 
at home in the heart of her own forests, and 
she was dauntless. He was taken back to his 
younger days when he had been courting one 
of the sweetest girls in New York State. They 
drove through romantic sheltered stretches of 
green, and drifting into those sweet memories 
he began before very long talking to her inti- 
mately of the past. Vallie listened enraptured 
to every word and it may have been this keen 
sympathy that led him into further narrative 
until he had broached upon family ties in an 
interesting manner. Mr. Randolph w 7 as a very 
entertaining man, and when he was away from 
the dull monotony of business he warmed and 
expanded to a full blown geniality that delight- 
ed the girl at his side. 

It had been a great source of regret to his 
family that he had drifted more and more 
away from that association with family which 
they had held so dear. The monster held him 
in its iron grasp, strangling the best, for he 
would not break away to enjoy life in simple 
pleasures that cost so little. The very soul of 
nature was implanted deeply within his heart, 
yet he had forgotten what it was to idly watch 
the growing fields, the golden stacks, the su- 
mac’s glow of color — the maples with new bud- 
[285] 


UNCLE SAM 


ding leaves, the yellow of the beech — the won- 
drous harmony of gold and silver sheen in 
flower and tree. This had been supplanted by 
the noise of busy streets, and the hum of com- 
mercial life; but now like a boy turned loose 
from laborious tasks he was enjoying a vaca- 
tion hearing only the hum of busy insect life 
around. 

His nerves were rested by the youthful face 
so near his own, in whose marvelously deep eyes 
was imprisoned all the hope and love of youth 
and life. Before they had reached the falls 
she was telling him about a little dramatic per- 
formance which she would appear in that night. 

“It’s for sweet charity. I wish that you 
might come.” 

Another note was struck to hark back to the 
past for he used to indulge in dramatics in his 
own home town, and she became delighted 
when he said he would remain over and see 
her before the footlights. She had thought of 
this when she had asked him down on this day 
and he did not dream of the danger he was be- 
ing led into by a pair of very beautiful eyes 
that had lured him on. 

“Yes, indeed. It’s a fine flow of water, and 
as I look at it I think it is worth a million — a 
cool million — for I am so thirsty.” She pro- 
duced a cup and together they drank of the 
crystal stream which was being fought over, 
[286] 


UNCLE SAM 


and which would yet be a large part in affairs 
of love, fortune, and philanthropy. 

It was very still in the great woods, with 
only the roar of the water rushing ceaselessly 
to the river, and he enjoyed the restfulness of 
the scene. 

“It has been a long time since I was in the 
heart of the woods.” He drank deep of the 
pure ozone and sighed as he continued: “I am 
glad I came for I am reminded of what I 
have denied myself. I once taught school in 
a little red frame building when I led a simple 
life, before I gained fortune, and perhaps lost 
some of the better things that money never 
brings.” He forgot the waterfall for the joy 
of this glimpse into another world, and he did 
not notice that his companion had dropped that 
important subject which had led them hither. 

Had his son chanced by at this moment he 
might have thought that the wonder of wom- 
an’s strategy is not surpassed. He did not 
dream that he was in the vicinity of his family 
for he paid little heed to their affairs. He still 
felt angry at Richard, and his disappointment 
seemed to come upon him as he talked with this 
charming young woman, while the fountains 
played about them in cooling, splashing sound. 

She was surprised to hear him break forth 
suddenly : 

“How would you feel if your only son had 
[287] 


UNCLE SAM 


the bad taste to fall in love with a very ordi- 
nary woman of low birth who could never ap- 
preciate his talents or position?” Vallie’s 
cheeks flamed with sudden anger and she could 
not for the moment control her tongue suffi- 
ciently to reply. At last with flashing eye she 
said with spirit: 

“How interesting. Perhaps he knows this 
woman better than you do. Often we misjudge 
people until we meet them.” 

“Nonsense!” He spoke with decision. “You 
know that I can’t see my son make an egregious 
blunder in life without trying to stop him — I 
told him I would cut him off without a penny 
— and I mean it.” She could see that it had 
sunk deep, and perhaps this was why her heart 
softened and her words were not so cold. 

“You believe that he is making a great mis- 
take and perhaps it is you.” She waited to 
see what he thought of her opinion. 

“No, you can readily understand when I tell 
you that she belongs to the farming class, that 
there is too wide a difference, and what is 
worse than to have your son descend beneath 
your own standard?” 

“Perhaps you have set up a false standard 
even as we worship before false gods. Did you 
never look at it in this way? Suppose you set 
the standard of love for is it not best after 
[288] 


UNCLE SAM 

all?” A sweet dreaminess filled the eyes turned 
upon him and he asked quickly: 

“Were you ever in love, Miss Leavite? But 
to one of your years — that would count above 
all else.” 

“Have you forgotten when you loved?” He 
gazed at her quietly before replying: 

“I have not forgotten for I have never 
ceased to love the woman I married, though as 
the years slip by perhaps we fail to make the 
most of the privilege, for larger ones seem to 
come between. A man should court, then make 
money, and at my age complete that courtship.” 

“In the beginning nothing came between you 
and your love, and if you were in the place 
your son is now in would you give up the wom- 
an for a father’s approval?” The question 
was keen and he was slow to speak for he 
would face it squarely. 

“I think my son owes first duty to his parents 
and their wishes.” 

“Then, had your parents interfered in your 
choice, you would meekly have acquiesced in 
their desires?” She did not take her eyes from 
his face and he met them fearlessly: 

“Oh! I’d not given up my wife for all the 
world.” 

“Cannot you understand why your son can- 
not do differently from his father? The same 
blood flows in his veins and he is carrying out 
[289] 


UNCLE SAM 


those same sentiments — following the standard 
that he believes to be the highest. Its mission 
is the best in life — true love — where there is no 
bartering — no cold calculating business bar- 
gaining, but sacrifice and devotion.” How 
beautiful was the enraptured face as she spoke 
in a clear, sweet voice that touched his heart 
as nothing had ever done. 

He toyed with a leaf as he began in his own 
defense. 

“Your simile is not the same. My wife was 
my equal in every respect, while that girl is — ” 

“Perhaps his equal. How do you regard this 
equality idea? What makes class, and how 
would you define this difference between that 
girl and your son?” He was prepared for the 
question. 

“She could not understand the things he does 
for she has not moved in the same sphere.” 
He could not make it as clear as he wished. 

“Then do you think that your son would 
wish to marry a woman who would have no 
sympathy with him — his tastes — his talents?” 

“She might in her way appreciate him — but 
there would be that blank wall between them — 
that divide which sooner or later would bring 
unhappiness.” 

“Do you refer to the divide that wealth 
creates?” 

“No, not money. I am not mercenary, for 
[290] 


UNCLE SAM 


it is not the idea of the girl being poor that dis- 
turbs me. I prefer that she had no money, 
and if she was a woman who would inspire in 
him the purpose of being and doing, I would 
ask no more; only that she be a woman with a 
name above reproach. My son has never taken 
a very active part in any work, and I begin to 
doubt if he ever will, for he seems to have no 
ambition.” 

“If this woman exerted such an uplifting in- 
fluence over him, raising him higher, not lower, 
would you then feel that he was at liberty to 
love — and marry?” She was very eager as 
she smiled at him with glistening, pearly teeth 
between the red lips, and the brightness of her 
eyes made him wonder for the moment. How 
quickly she understood in her intuitive way, 
entering fully into the story he had woven 
about these two young people. 

“If she would make a man of him and get 
some of the sluggard out of his blood I would 
not complain. I don’t want my son to be less 
of a man than is his father.” 

“Have you seen this girl and studied her?” 

“No, indeed. I do not believe that I would 
like her, for these buxom lassies have more 
color than brains. They are not progressive 
enough to suit me. Contentment conduces to 
enjoyment but not always to a higher level. 
But the worries we have. A son will marry 
[291] 


UNCLE SAM 


beneath him and a daughter insists upon a 
title.” She winced at his words. 

“I do not intend to buy a title, giving so 
much a year for good behavior or less for bad 
— I do not intend to rob any man of his man- 
hood by placing a money value upon those 
things that should not be bought.” 

“Yet you place a value upon your position 
— then why shall not titled folk place such a 
price upon their rank? You bar from your cir- 
cle one who would like to enter, and yet you 
do not want to pay the price that you ask from 
others. They ask gold, you ask what?” A 
slight irony had tinged her words and he must 
meet the issue full in the face. She waited, 
pulling grasses into ribbons the while. 

“I do not ask gold but intelligence and re- 
finement.” 

“If she possesses them your son could wed?” 

“I would have to see this young woman of 
whom we have talked at length, and I haven’t 
heard from him though I do not think he can 
make his way alone, and I am vexed.” 

“It is the best thing for him to be left alone. 
He may learn to stand by himself yet.” A cer- 
tain pride tinged her words for she remem- 
bered the declaration he had given — that new 
independence that was shaping his future life. 
And she felt that she had brought it about. 

“Should he marry that girl he may begin to 
[292] 


UNCLE S A M 


find out that he doesn’t need — his father.” 

“More likely I’d have them both to look 
after. Well, if she suited me I’d do my duty. 
He is my only son — and I’ve failed in my duty 
to him — devoting too much time to this process 
of existence — and too little to him, his aims 
and ambitions. I had great plans for him 
when he was young — we have outgrown one 
another, and are not familiar with our separate 
ways — for he likes to dream and I to work. I 
should have dreamed more with him and he 
should have worked with me, that is where the 
mistake lay, and now it is too late.” A sigh 
of regret escaped him, and he seemed to have 
forgotten the brown-eyed girl that watched him 
wistfully, her heart very full for she had come 
close to this man’s nature and she knew him 
already like a book. “Yes, the dreams of 
youth and the work of man should go hand in 
hand.” 

“It is not too late! Why don’t you begin 
now and form that partnership which would 
bring success to both?” She looked at Rich- 
ard’s father tenderly and her voice was sweet. 
“You need him and he needs you, yet you send 
him from you.” She turned away her head for 
her eyes were misty, and she rose to leave the 
spot where memories would always remain, at 
the great waterfall for here she had braved all 
for love’s sweet sake. 

[293] 


UNCLE SAM 


u Your little story has interested me because 
in the play I portray a girl as you have told me 
of — one loved by a disinherited son of wealth. 
You can see the reason for my interest and I 
hope that you will yet yield as did the mag- 
nate.” 

“They won him over, eh?” 

She laughed at him saucily. “The girl made 
him surrender. It’s a very nice little scene,” 
she looked at him with soft eyes, “I hope that 
you may live through one like it.” 

“Oh, in plays things always come out in fine 
shape, but it’s different in real life. Heroines 
are impossible and so are future daughters-in- 
law.” 

“You have decided to pay that million?” 

“I will not decide to-day. It’s a very pretty 
waterfall; and perhaps, as you say, we’ll travel 
in ships that pass one another signalling with 
unseen hands ; and here will be the power that 
makes it possible.” He laughed at the idea. 


Xml 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


AN ENGAGEMENT. 

At the forks of the road Vallie met Richard 
and his greeting was most effusive. She smiled 
as he took a seat beside her. 

“You are looking so happy and — sweet — I 
would like to kiss you right here — dare I?” 

“No, indeed. You feel you have that right, 
no doubt, but this is a forced engagement.” 

“Anyway I like forced or stolen kisses. 
Where have you been, sweet thing? Up to 
some mischief, for it is very apparent by the 
sparkle in your eye. Out with it!” 

“Oh, where have I been? I will let you try 
to guess. But you might make a dozen and 
more, yet, you would be far from the truth. I 
have been trying to make a million dollars.” 

“And did you succeed, little faker?” He 
wanted to take her in his arms right there and 
then. 

“I don’t know — yet.” He gave her hand a 
gentle pressure. 

“When will you know?” He tried to baffle 
her. 

“Perhaps I may know — to-night. I was de- 
[ 295 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


lighted with my morning’s work and the drive 
has given me much energy for all I have to do 
at home. We must get the grass ready — did 
you bring the dyes?” 

“Yes, and I will assist you to make a velvety 
carpet for your dainty feet to lightly trip the 
jocund round. Isn’t the weather fine? I have 
a list of the properties, and they must all be 
sent over this afternoon when the piano is 
moved. Jenny seems to be keen for the time 
to come so she can play. I hope she hasn’t 
forgotten all her music, but Seenie would hold 
out on her, eh?” 

“Yes, Jenny has been well punished, I as- 
sure you, yet she told me she would run away 
any time to hear that music, so it is rather pa- 
thetic.” 

“How is the bride?” 

“I think she will soon have Bertram very 
mild. Do you know, Dick, I have lived in a 
dream all day. I see this sparkling ring — and 
have to believe that I am engaged. But do not 
tell your mother or sister — yet.” 

“I want to tell them — Vallie, don’t make me 
wait.” 

“But your mother!” There was much in 
her words and he understood. 

“Never fear, sweetheart, mother will be 
pleased.” 


[296] 


UNCLE SAM 

“But your father, Dick?” A frown appeared 
for the moment. 

“He will know in time. I have no fears for 
the future. 

“Now I will take that kiss I have been wait- 
ing for so long.” They were at the rear of the 
house, and she had just alighted when he put 
his arm about her tenderly. But the moment 
had been unfortunate. 

“Well, Vallie, what do you mean lettin’ a 
man kiss you right here in sight, too?” Seenie 
looked at them coldly. 

“But I have the right for you see this is my 
future bride.” 

“Lands! ’Tis time she was a bride from 
w T hat I see. Huh — I’ll tell your pa how you’re 
goin’ on, Miss.” She whisked away as though 
she highly disapproved but upon seeing her 
husband at the woodpile she stopped to break 
the great news. 

“Seenie, I reckon this will be wood ’nough to 
last while city folks are here.” 

“Humph! Ain’t city folks in your house 
now — the future Mis’ Randolph, your own 
daughter? Ain’t I seen the big flashin’ ring on 
her finger an’ he told me hisself?” Her face 
beamed and Uncle Sam smiled as he said in 
his emphatic manner: 

“Wa’al, wa’al! Love did find a way, an’ I 
ain’t sorry.” He walked down to the big 
[ 297 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

meadow and viewed the stock chewing their 
cuds contentedly, then stopped to look at the 
white Chesterfields in their well kept pens, the 
while he was saying over and over: “If he’ll 
make my little girl happy, that’s all I ast.” 

Uncle Sam found a very enthusiastic house- 
hold for a large box had arrived from New 
York and its arrival had created unusual ex- 
citement. Richard had been responsible for its 
advent having ordered costumes for the play, 
but they were delayed in transit so that it was 
at the eleventh hour those interested beheld 
the big surprise. Lavinia and Teresa forgot 
even their worries at sight of the quaint flow- 
ered silks which would adorn them that night, 
and Vallie went into raptures over the becom- 
ing toilettes to be worn by Kaylis. 

“They are lovely Dick, and Jenny, here is 
your pretty dress. My — won’t we look gay? 
He surveyed the different dresses with a criti- 
cal eye. I believe they’ll do. I know that Reu- 
ben will simply become overwhelmed when he 
sees you in this creation, Miss Teresa. And 
Miss Lavinia, isn’t blue your color?” 

“Yes, indeed, and here are the slippers and 
gloves to go with the gown. Oh, I do wish 
mother was here!” A sigh accompanied the 
words for it was to Lydia that they always 
went at once, and Seenie felt sorry for the 
girls as they looked so helpless. In her way 
[298] 


UNCLE SAM 

she had tried to befriend them, knowing that 
they had reached a rough place in the road. 
However, the plans for the great event lessened 
their grief, for there had never been a busier 
time for one and all. The announcement of 
Vallie’s engagement caused another rupture be- 
tween the sisters, each blaming the other for 
not capturing Reuben’s ring. 

Richard was very tired when he prepared to 
drive over for his mother. Uncle Sam would 
bring Elsie back with him — thus the way was 
clear for him to have the long looked for talk 
with the one he wished most to see. 

They greeted one another with much affec- 
tion, and he told her that it was nice to be with 
her again. 

“I fear, Dick, that you have not thought 
much about me of late. Too busy with that 
play, I suppose, and studying types?” She 
laughed uneasily. “I trust that no deeper in- 
terest attaches you to Brighton.” For the first 
time he fully realized the task before him, as 
in eyes, voice and face he read what he would 
not have wished to see. 

“I believe a very deep interest keeps me here, 
as deep as a man can have — I am engaged to 
marry Vallie Saylor.” 

She became strangely silent and her face was 
white and she did not look at him as he urged 
the horse forward. He felt that he could not 
[ 299 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

go fast enough in the strained silence that 
neither seemed anxious to break. 

“Dick, have you thought what this means to 
you?” Then she faltered as she said quietly: 
“It means more to you — than you realize — 
more than she knows — it means everything!” 
He looked at her and the light of his eyes con- 
vinced her that he was sincere. 

“My boy! My boy!” What a world of 
tenderness filled her voice. “I have always 
planned for you so much — it was to be so dif- 
ferent — from this! You will not be happy — 
in such a marriage — how can you be? Sooner 
or later you will realize that it was a terrible 
mistake — for both. That is why I speak. I 
am thinking of the girl also — you must see her 
side. Your ways will not lie together. You 
have nothing in common.” 

“Mother, you do not judge rightly. I know 
all that it means to us — I know that it means 
everything! Vallie is that power that will 
make me reach to the best within me — it will 
be her ambition — not mine — which will make 
me take my own place in the world. She under- 
stands my failings — she understands my nature 
in its various moods and if I am ever made a 
man it will be her work.” 

“Dear boy, you are so susceptible. When 
you are in love you ascribe to your deity — un- 
known powers — you see the ideal woman — not 

[300] 


UNCLE SAM 

the real one. You are not wise and therein lies 
the danger from which I would warn you be- 
fore it is too late.” 

“It is too late for that, mother, for even you 
could not dissuade me from marrying her. I 
am not susceptible in the least, but madly, wisely 
in love, and as for idealizing my little girl, she 
doesn’t need it; she is far dearer in the real 
flesh and blood, and none was ever sweeter. 
Oh, mother, if you only knew Vallie as I do 
you would like her — love her. She is so supe- 
rior to other women — on the surface she ap- 
pears a butterfly flitting from flower to flower 
with her dimples and her smiles and laughing 
eyes — but that is not Vallie — the real woman 
has lofty aims and far-reaching ambitions, and 
she is so true!” 

What could she do? Looking at the strong 
love in his face she realized that it was too 
late. Her boy — her boy! A pain pierced her 
heart and she could not speak. The mother 
love was tugging at her heart like hooks of 
iron. Could she see him sacrifice his life? 
Could she not prevent this grave mistake? 

“Richard, you know that I only want your 
happiness. I am not one who would dictate as 
to whom you should marry — I haven’t that 
right. But I can advise, and you are so tal- 
ented — you are so much to me — to us all, I 
have always felt that you would do something 

[301] 


UNCLE SAM 


to make us very proud of you — and ” 

“I know how you feel, mother. Have I not 
been endowed with your own sensitive tempera- 
ment and I can see right into your heart? Don’t 
I know that I have been a great disappoint- 
ment; you would have me doing things and I 
do nothing. But give me credit for one thing, 
and that is winning Vallie. Why, if you only 
knew what a strenuous effort it has been, and 
I finally in desperation took things in my own 
hands and told her she was going to marry me. 
You know what father thought about it, or did 
he talk to you of our interview?” 

“Not a word. This is the first intimation 
I have had though I’ll admit that I had fore- 
bodings ” 

“Of good tidings.” He smiled at her, for 
in some way he felt that the cloud was lifting. 
“You see Vallie objected for family reasons, 
and if I can win father over I feel sure that she 
will give her consent, though that is not wor- 
rying me.” 

“Nor my consent?” 

“Oh, mother, I can depend on you. Did you 
ever fail me? And she doesn’t even know 
what love is — so you see I have the sweet task 
of teaching her. Another would have this 
privilege but he has lost out. I was afraid he 
would get what I wanted — so this hasty en- 
gagement.” 


[302] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Very romantic indeed. You would pursue 
where there was good chase, and you say she 
understands you — perhaps this accounts for her 
indifference.” 

“Vallie couldn’t play a part — in real life. 
He began to relate the recent event of Lydia’s 
wedding and she took an interest in all she 
heard, even to the bedroom scene which ap- 
pealed to her humorous nature. But beneath 
the surface a great fear gripped her heart as 
they neared the farm. 

“Mother, Vallie sees things in the same light 
as yourself, and she has brooded over this view 
of the situation, and my success with her will 
depend on the attitude you show toward her. 
If you disapprove she will never marry me. 
She is of a sensitive nature and you understand. 
Mother, you are so fine, so genuine, — not 
bound by petty prejudice, but in grave doubt — 
your heart does not sanction what mine craves. 
But I can trust all to your superior judgment, 
for you always do your part.” 

“Dick, Dick, you are asking so much! I 
know that it is not the pleading of a careless 
boy, but the love of a man that fills your heart. 
This moment is one I wish I might have been 
spared. You want me to show my approval — 
and I cannot! I cannot! I wish I had not 
come. Why did you not write me — why have 

[303] 


UNCLE SAM 

you placed me in such a trying position at this 
time?” 

“Mother, don’t worry. I wanted to tell you 
here — here where the flowers have blown about 
her their perfume, which in her nature she ex- 
hales in rare generosity, and all things have 
helped to nurture within her the womanliness 
of character that I admire and love. She is so 
true — not a false note to jar the perfect, weird, 
unusual symphony of her being, a sympathy at- 
tuned to mankind in good will and fellowship.” 
Then with the pride of bearing that had come 
down from the old Vanvorts he said proudly: 
“I do not need to apologize for the woman I 
have chosen, for she will bring but honor to my 
family.” 

Mrs. Randolph was deeply impressed by his 
words and in his face there was reflected the 
new man within. This new dignity towered 
above all minor considerations and she mar- 
veled at this change which had been done by the 
wonderful influences of one heart upon an- 
other. She saw in him something of what she 
had yearned to find all these years, and it 
brought a comfort she had never known. 

When confronted by the impossible Mrs. 
Randolph was one who always took the 
smoother way, and she resolved to let things 
take their own course without undue worry. 
“Mother, I only wish that Vallie wanted me as 
[ 304 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


I do her — you see that is what hurts.” She 
seemed to understand the situation better, and 
yet his words caused her a trifle of annoyance. 
She did not like to think that any woman would 
not be more than anxious to marry her son. 

Uncle Sam and Elsie joined them upon the 
veranda, and in the wide doorway a picture was 
presented which they did not forget — Vallie 
with little Sam’l in her arms. 

Impulsively Mrs. Randolph kissed her af- 
fectionately, saying sweetly: “I do not wonder 
that my boy loves you, dear, for I do also.” It 
was as great a surprise to the speaker as any, 
and all seemed much moved by this heartfelt 
expression from a noble woman, who had for- 
gotten all in her own unselfishness. 

Richard was thrilled, as was Vallie, but Elsie 
was unprepared and she stood unmoved, show- 
ing none of the bravery her mother heroically 
displayed — when it had cost her dearly. 

The cold glance from his sister sent a pain 
to the heart of her joy, but his mother! Would 
she ever forget? The thought of sweet-faced 
Gertrude came before her yet she banished it 
the next moment. Vallie was singing in her 
heart and her face was never so beautiful as 
now when she fully attended to the wants of 
her guests with a delicate consideration they 
could not but admire. She wanted them to 
enjoy every moment of their stay at the farm 

[305] 


UNCLE SAM 


and her step had never been lighter nor her 
heart as she flitted about smiling and chatting 
— yet she did not know the heavy pall that 
lay upon a mother’s loving heart. Mrs. Ran- 
dolph was as gay as a girl but she welcomed 
the thought of the play when she would have 
time to quietly think it all out. 

Seenie had never appeared to better advan- 
tage as a hostess, for everything seemed to have 
gone all right, the nicely prepared dinner was 
faultless, and even Jenny in her harum-scarum 
way seemed to realize that this was an occa- 
sion when she must be very ladylike. The girls 
were very dignified and conversed with Elsie 
in a manner that reflected credit upon them- 
selves and the others. And Uncle Sam. He 
seemed to be overflowing with geniality, and yet 
there was the dignity of manner that character- 
ized him on such occasions. 

Mrs. Randolph was not acquainted with the 
nature of the play, but she heard random re- 
marks that aroused her curiosity, but she could 
not receive much enlightenment for her son 
wished it to be a surprise. He glanced at Val- 
lie and wondered if there was ever a sweeter 
little woman in all the world; his mother, not- 
ing these loving looks had no doubts as to his 
real feelings. Yes, her boy was madly infatu- 
ated with this girl and he was going to marry 
her. This was uppermost in her thoughts, it 
[306] 


UNCLE SAM 


rang out above all else, she seemed to see it 
wherever she turned — going to marry — Vallie 
Saylor! 

“How is the book coming on, Mr. Saylor? 
You know I am greatly interested in it.” 

“Fine ’s a fiddle, ma’am. I seem to be doin’ 
’bout ’s well ’s could be expected. But you 
should see how Sam’l’s ed’cation ’s growin’. 
He’s got a head on him, I tell you what ! That 
boy ’ll be a wonder yit ! He’s got his skel’ton, 
l’amin’ the bones fast, too; an’ then how he do 
take to his blocks. We has our globe travelin’ 
I calls it, an’ I seems to take a heap of com- 
fort in goin’ from one side of the worl’ to 
t’other in a jiffy. Most ’s good ’s an airship. 
I had a time findin’ Zanzibar for him to-day. 
He’ll soon know how to figur’ with them domi- 
noes I got him ’cause he looks at ’em an’ plays 
’s if they was money. Mis’ Randolph, did you 
know that my waterfall ’s in the courts now? 
Yes, an’ we’re hopin’ to win.” His face glowed 
with the purpose none knew about, and he was 
more than anxious to talk to her, yet he would 
wait. 

“You seem to have more excitement here 
than we in the city. I can understand why the 
young ladies enjoy it at Brighton. I would like 
to see the bride very much.” 

“Lydia’s doin’ fine ’s a feather, too. She’s 
got the chair that was made for her an’ no 

[307] 


UNCLE SAM 


other. Lydia ’s goin’ in my book. I’ll show 
you how much I’ve writ since I seen you. I’m 
jest ’fraid that somebody will git my thoughts 
through transference ’fore it gits under kiver. 
But Sam’l liked to put his hand to it in a way 
that didn’t suit his gran’dad. He pulled the 
book off’n the easel an’ was fixin’ to tear it to 
pieces when I hove in sight. If the little rascal 
had done up the great ’Merican novel I’d have 
had to go out of bus’ness.” 

“I’ve been busy leading the suffrage war.” 

“Well, we ain’t never had no sense yit — an’ 
some say we never will, but if the women c’n 
git things in a more blissed tangle than you men 
let ’em try their hand. I’d like to have a man 
tell me I couldn’t go to them poles ’f I took the 
notion — what give ’em the right I’d like to 
know? I ain’t never been run by no male crit- 
ter yit an’ never will.” 

“Bravo, Mrs. Saylor! I see that I can count 
on you.” 

“Yes, you can, when it comes to havin’ things 
run more sensibly. Wh — y, I don’t see no rea- 
son in lettin’ some folks say what we shall pay 
for meat an’ bread, an’ meekly payin’ it. Then 
some have a sight too much an’ others nuthin’ 
’tall to keep soul an’ body together.” 

“Seenie, be careful, you’re talkin’ that rank 
stuff you calls anarky ” 

“It’s jest good common sense, feedin’ an’ 
[308] 


UNCLE SAM 


housin’ folks that need it. I makes my egg 
money an’ milk an’ butter money with my own 
hands an’ gits it honest, but c’d I ever git a pile 
o’ gold that’d reach to the skies? Then why 
should they have it? It’s anarky to house 
thieves an’ call ’em just men helpin’ us with our 
poor.” 

“Seenie, you needn’t be ag’in those that have 
made their piles, for they’ve been useful to man- 
kind, as the trusts, when these things are used 
for mankind, not ag’in’, an’ them fellers have 
showed the way to better an’ bigger things, so 
’s we c’n now profit by their work. The rich 
’s helped the poor by creatin’ monop’lies which 
bum-by he’ll enjoy. 

“Some say that there wasn’t any ben’fit come 
from those soldiers walkin’ through the snow 
with blood-stained feet in tattered clothes in the 
year 1777 at Bemis Heights, an’ at Ticonder- 
oga. Vallie’s grandfather was at Bemis Heights 
an’ he helped make our freedom to-day. Them 
continental troops blazed the way for the big- 
gest Independence Day the worl’ ’s ever known. 
Some say we’ve failed in our makin’ of a great 
nation, but I say that we’ve just begun, for 
God is behind us in our work an’ it’s all his 
great plan. I see it laid out plain ’s black an’ 
white an’ too, the races ’ll git into their own 
places bum-by. Man worries a heap ’thout 
needin’ to do it for ain’t it all to come right, 

[309] 


UNCLE SAM 

ain’t God above us watchin’ an’ seein’ that we 
do His will? 

“Some are sayin’ a heap ag’in’ this equality, 
but in death ain’t all men equal an’ then why 
shouldn’t we be more so in life? There’s that 
equality that some never think of — that which 
’d bring more real happiness than what they’re 
grabbin’ for. God ain’t made man finer than 
his fellow men. They’re all out’n human clay 
that’s frail an’ apt to break any day, an’ once 
’tis gone who c’n piece it back? 

“Can you make a cock an’ a pig equal? No, 
jest ’s you couldn’t make humans. You c’n feed 
’em the same, but they won’t be the same — one 
’ll be a Christian an’ t’other be like Satan. I 
don’t see why folks are ag’in’ what can’t be. 
Give a feller some rations an’ he’ll keep his 
an’ his brother ’ll toss his away, why, jest like 
Bram — he’s my brother. Bram ’s saved every 
dollar he ever had an’ put ’nuther to it an’ I 
throwed mine away. He likes to look at his 
pile an’ I’m not carin’ for that sort of thing. 
He’ll go ’thout things he needs to save. He’s 
an old man now an’ bendin’ like a willow to 
any breeze. He said onct that he wanted to 
see Vallie a woman, an’ he better be cornin’ 
’long, for she’s that most. He thought a heap 
of your ma.” 

“Why don’t you ask him down?” Teresa 
was interested in this rich relative who could 
[310] 


UNCLE SAM 

not survive many years of life. Vallie said she 
would like to see him very much. 

“Shucks, you girls are after that pile of 
shiny gold, but c’n I blame you, for ain’t I 
wantin’ some of ’t myself; but you’d spend it 
for candy an’ trinkets, an’ I’d buy-. — what?” 


[311] 


CHAPTER XIX. 


MASTER AND SLAVE. 

The opportunity offered to witness a rural 
production in Nature’s own amphitheatre was 
very inviting to Peter Randolph, since he would 
see in another role a very charming personal- 
ity starring in “Master and Slave.” 

Cloudless skies above with a myriad of 
watching stars, and a background of interlac- 
ing green made an ideal setting for the pastoral 
amid the tranquil hush of night. 

There was a crash of music, of delicious 
sounds, now sweet and low like a mother’s lul- 
laby, full of love and tenderness divine; now 
loud and glorious in the voice of power like the 
rush of a storm o’er the sea, the incoming 
waves beating one above the other, higher — 
higher — in their mad play of passionate long- 
ings and desires to reach a final goal. Who 
could be playing behind the scenes? Mrs. Ran- 
dolph listened to the familiar symphony and re- 
called that triumphal night when her own play 
had been staged. Was that Richard playing? 
Who then? What beauty of touch and the out- 
pouring of a nature stifling for expression. 
[312] 


UNCLE SAM 

The curtain had risen and a scene from real 
life was before their interested eyes. The 
youthful musician sat at the piano, her position 
very awkward, her mouth wide and eyes star- 
ing, the tears running down her cheeks, which 
were very deathly pale. In the wings had 
gathered the troupe, forgetting all in the ex- 
citement of the moment, for a miracle had 
happened. Little Jenny had become possessed 
with the wine of music, and it was filling her 
being with wild exultation. She was crazed 
with its overpowering influence and she knew 
nothing save that she was far away in distant 
cloudland — floating — floating for she was all 
space and time and eternal power. 

Amid the breathless hush a creature like a 
bird of brilliant plumage had floated out upon 
the green sward and her small feet did not 
seem to touch earth as they darted as a wild 
pheasant amid the trees, the incarnation of 
beauty and witchery, tossing florets in her 
way, the garlands of youth, of love, of old age 
and joy. Even down in the meadow when her 
bare little feet had danced to the tune of the 
songsters she had never danced like this — so 
weird in poetic movement, so svelt in form and 
divine in face ! What a face for artists, what 
a form ! Poets might have raved for here was 
a woman who embodied all grace — all beauty! 

As quickly as she had come she had vanished 
[ 313 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


and only the plaudits of her audience echoed 
far and near as an expression of their delight. 

She had danced but for one, the silent man 
who sat alone in an obscure corner. 

The plutocrat walked in his rose garden with 
his only son telling him that he had in his 
hand much power, for any wish might be grant- 
ed of earthly things. Then the son replies 
that the only thing he desires is the love of a 
girl who is the daughter of one that would be 
called a man of toil. Then ensued the heated 
discussion that seemed to break asunder any 
affectionate relations between the two. How 
very real it was to one in the audience — even 
the words were those that he had heard before, 
and witnessing this role became very engross- 
ing as the plot unfolded. He had expected a 
melodrama of the ordinary, commonplace class 
but this clever reproduction of modern life was 
very impressive, and like his wife, he could but 
marvel at its power. 

There was a cheering greeting to Old Oak 
York for he was the best expression of all that 
Uncle Sam was, or had, in his highest moments, 
ever hoped to be. His heart and soul were per- 
meated with love of all mankind. He loved 
Nature, he loved his own America loyally, he 
loved the world, he loved his own tenderly. Not 
until tonight did those about him realize fully 
his great rugged, sympathetic nature and over- 
[3i4] 


UNCLE SAM 


whelming magnetism as he stood out boldly for 
all that was best in human life. The old man 
had been preserved in a type that would live 
after him, and he was a fitting mouthpiece for 
the beautiful sentiments of Old York, his bear- 
ing, his face, his voice — his own personality full 
of truth and wisdom. He was rightly named 
Oak for reaching out toward humanity were as 
many arms of charity, love and hope for his 
fellow man, a tree standing apart from the leaf- 
less ones in the forest, full of living green, 
where beneath its sheltering branches the weary 
might find rest and peace. 

“ ’Tis a mad world, my master.” What bet- 
ter could describe this strong portrayal of hu- 
man passions, where under the false standard 
of to-day brother destroyed brother as merci- 
lessly as do the beasts of the jungle. With the 
biting, trenchant pen of a Thackeray was un- 
covered the snobbery and shams of this fitful 
life, the follies of mankind glaring in living 
colors, force and fire in every word cut decis- 
ive and without mercy, like the sting of an 
adder. 

Old York was a part of the dreamy, 
shadowy mystery that subdued the night, for 
he and Kaylis had lived in this atmosphere and 
were at home. Her own striking personality 
in all its original charm radiated witticisms and 
love. The affectionate regard of father and 

[315] 


UNCLE SAM 


daughter touched a tender chord in every 
breast, her loyalty and sympathy for the old 
man and the clever manner in which she en- 
trapped the Master held them breathless for 
each new development. 

And the Master! He who sat listening at- 
tentively to every word which was a rebuke to 
his own conscience. Was he not Master in 
that life where the Age of commercialism had 
blinded so that they did not know of the great 
wrongs they committed, nor did they realize 
the wrongs that others might do when they 
were aroused to fight for their own rights. 
How clearly was shown the different elements 
— the rich — the poor — the strong — the weak. 
There were the exponents of hypocritical na- 
ture in the comical situations which brought the 
jealous sisters and Reuben out to advantage — 
they with their deceits and he with unveneered 
whole-hearted faith in lovely womanhood. The 
shams of the social and the shams of the busi- 
ness world — was one greater than the other? 
Falseness and low ideals were pitted against 
higher planes of life; worth not wealth was the 
strong keynote which rang true, faith in hu- 
manity, for without it the world is lost. 

His own son played before him yet he never 
knew! Father enjoyed each moment for he 
knew his son better now than he had ever be- 
fore. Did he not read his heart before him — 
[316] 


UNCLE SAM 


were not the truths flashing forth a part of his 
own mind and soul? It was a revelation; but 
though he had been blind in the past he was 
seeing now. He saw many things and in a way 
he lived years while the stars twinkled and the 
moon flooded the scene with increasing bright- 
ness. 

The Master saw himself strutting on the 
stage of life, flaunting his greatness before the 
world who bowed down and worshipped idols 
of clay, false prophets of the day. The world 
would not miss them when their candle had 
been puffed out for they had left no footprints 
on the sands of time that would not be washed 
away. Gazing upward toward infinite space he 
realizes that earth is nothing, much less man 
on this earth. Soul expressed in good deeds 
and love of mankind alone is worth while, and 
life is but a spark of a divine love that ignites 
into a trust in God and man. 

Richard and Vallie were splendid foils and 
their sparring created a feeling of pride in the 
Master’s breast. How convincing was her ren- 
dition, the wonderful individuality in face and 
voice and gesture, beneath was the ever near- 
ness of a heart throbbing with tenderness. 

Kaylis had touched in reality the Master’s 
heart, for he admired her bold, charming na- 
ture, so sincere in frank avowal of all that was 
right, and she taught him a great lesson, that 
[3U] 


UNCLE SAM 


there was better worship than the material. 
She seized with soft hands that big heart that 
had been encased with worldliness, and show r ed 
him how he had erred. It was consummate art 
carried skilfully to a happy end. 

The Master sat deep in thought. If she 
could inspire such an effort as he had witnessed 
— what might not be yet accomplished? He 
scourged his own egotistical self that he had 
ever called his son a laggard. Who was the 
Master to criticise one who was so far above 
him in the philosophy of life? A boy with a 
man’s wisdom of all things, who was unaware 
of his own greatness. He was the last one to 
realize the worth of what he had created for 
he treasured not the brilliant flashes of a mas- 
ter mind. 

His mother, too intensely absorbed in the 
drama to lose a word, smiled at the ambitious 
attempt of amateurs to give such a masterpiece, 
yet had they not acquitted themselves with the 
greatest honor? She recognized at once that 
no other than his pen could have shaded into 
despair, touched lightly with tender words of 
sentiment, and her heart seemed to fairly sing 
for joy. It was a happier moment for the 
fond mother than any she had ever known, for 
what were her own successes compared to those 
of her children? She had loved Vallie from 
the first scene for she had read all that her son 
[318] 


UNCLE SAM 


told her about and she was satisfied. Without 
a regret would she welcome her to her home 
and heart. She had been the means of his find- 
ing himself, and she deserved the credit. Her 
own powers had failed where the younger wom- 
an had easily achieved. Such is the wondrous 
power of love. While she had been lamenting 
over her son’s waste of time he had builded bet- 
ter than she knew or than he knew. From a 
seeming obscurity he had gleaned great success. 
It was so unexpected that she had not yet fully 
realized all it meant to him, but her only regret 
was that she had not had other critics witness 
“Master and Slave.” She was glad that there 
was hope between the blackness of skepticism 
and scoffing, for had not Old York spoken for 
all that was best in human nature — he was the 
future’s salvation, and from out the darkness 
this spark shone brilliantly forth to light the 
way. The torch bearer that must carry the 
light to future years, crucified and reviled, yet 
his was the place of honor and reward. The 
Slave was Master after all, Conqueror in the 
end, for the soul was not fettered though it 
was dwarfed by conditions that should never 
exist. Yet the true Slave was stronger than 
any degrading power to crush and would rise 
up again to save his own, though vanquished by 
the Master he was spared by God. 

“Richard, my boy!” Tears filled her eyes 

[319] 


UNCLE SAM 


and she could not speak as she looked with a 
depth of love into his face, “you do not realize 
what you have created — oh, Dick, I am so 
proud of you ! I always knew that it was there 
— but I could never find it — yet another has 
done this and I rejoice. She is all you say, dear 
boy, and I love her for her own womanly self. 
I am very, very — happy to-night; had your 
father only been present my cup would have 
been filled to the brim.” 

“While mine overflows.” He spoke simply 
for his heart was too full for expression. “I 
am glad you liked the play for I think we did 
very well with such raw material. Vallie had 
theatrical ambitions and I wrote it to please 
her.” 

“Dick!” He turned and she looked at him 
in amazement. “You wrote ‘Master and 
Slave?’ I don’t see how I could have been so 
blind! Oh, you dear boy! I never was so 
happy as I am to-night.” She laughed up at 
him and he had never seen any face so radiant 
with pure joy, yet he did not dream what had 
caused this rapture. 

“Vallie, you were the sweetest Kaylis in all 
the world.” She was surprised to hear this 
from no other than Elsie who was smiling at 
her. 

“I am so glad that you think that I did my 
part all right.” 

[320] 


UNCLE SAM 

“I would never do anything but dance if I 
were you ! It’s talent thrown away when you 
marry.” 

“I have found that stage life is not all roses, 
eh, Dick? Think of all our troubles; well, it 
turned out all right in the end. Wasn’t papa 
too dear for anything? I never loved him 
more than I did to-night, and he played fault- 
lessly. I think that he might have been an 
actor. And Seenie, she was all that could be 
desired. The girls? I believe that was the 
best bit of comedy I have seen.” 

“It was a grand success, and a very good 
rehearsal.” 

“Mother, I don’t understand?” 

“Why, I intend to see this played by profes- 
sionals. It will not be as interesting but will 
bring more fame.” 

“You are in earnest?” 

“Was never more so in my life, Dick. I 
hope you don’t think that I will allow this good 
material to go to waste. No, indeed, it is too 
valuable, and I am far too much of a business 
woman. You lack that quality but I do not. 
I expect to have it staged this coming season, 
and my plans are made already.” 

“Mother, you are a remarkable woman, and 
no doubt did you take hold of it, you would 
make it what you would.” 

“It will be the ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ of the 
[321] 


UNCLE SAM 


twentieth century, for it’s mission is to free the 
white slave. Wasn’t Uncle Sam grand? Oh, 
Dick, can we ever forget his face as he closed 
that last scene, and what beautiful words from 
the lips of the country philosopher. Every one 
a gem of poesy which must be treasured. His 
rendition of the part in all its crudeness was 
unexcelled in other than technicalities, for 
there was the heart, the soul. You had good 
models, Dick, and the copy is true to life, 
emphasized and chiselled into perfect lines. I 
am glad that he will live, and his tribute to 
freedom might have emanated from his own 
big heart. I wanted him but you have the first 
right for my pen could never do him justice.” 
She paused a moment. “I liked the lines : 

“ ‘Even the innocent songsters that cheer 
with their sweet warbling have no freedom, 
ruthlessly destroyed by the hunter’s hand.’ ” 

It had been a night crowned with triumph 
in every way, for at the close of the last act, 
when the audience was thrilled by the never-to- 
be-forgotten scene between “Master and 
Slave,” a message had found its way to Vallie’s 
hand and thence to her palpitating heart. The 
scene of happiness closing was made real by 
a few scrawled words in bold handwriting. 

“I would like to see you privately when convenient 
that we may arrange the details of that purchase, as I 

[322] 


UNCLE SAM 


\ 


consider I will avail myself of your offer. I might add 
that had my son chosen a woman like Kaylis I would 
be very proud indeed, for she has set up a new standard 
for all that is ideal in womanhood. A million is a small 
price.” 

Vallie might have told her lover why she 
held such happiness in her eyes but she wished 
to hold her sweet secret for the present. She 
was really worried about that million dollars, 
but what did anything matter since she won 
over the Master. What would they all say? 
It was the proudest moment in her life, it was 
quite as clever as what Kaylis had done. And 
had not that been her incentive? 

“You look like a beautiful butterfly to-night, 
and is it because you have left your old self 
and have become an actress, rather, a star?” 
He looked at her with a fondness that almost 
brought forth her great news. 

“You should never do anything but act a 
part, Dick. I had no idea you could play in 
that manner. Wh — y, I was so carried away 
by your power that I almost forgot my own 
lines. Dick, how wonderful you are! When 
you played your violin I lost the cue entirely — 
you should have told me this was coming. Your 
face was so — fine — not common — and how 
sweet the music sounded in my ears. I think 
that it gave me unspoken words of love. It 
was strange, but it flashed over me that I might 
have been his wife. Oh, Dick, think if I had 

[323] 


UNCLE SAM 


married that man! He seemed very cool to- 
ward me, and Belle is still unhappy. They both 
did their roles excellently, but there was no 
heart in their work. I was sorry that Gertrude 
was not here. She is a sweet woman and what 
a sad life she has had. I was speaking about 
your work on the stage. Did you never want 
to be an actor?” 

“No, for you die with your generation, and 
your work with you for the most part, I would 
rather write, for compositions live if they are 
not of puny stuff.” 

“Then you will write, for who has the gift in 
larger store?” 

“You think so? I have always been running 
away from my muse, but perhaps, I am at last 
overtaken. Would you like to have me write 
a great book some day?” 

“Yes, oh yes, dear. With such a prospect 
ahead I might even conclude to marry you, 
though I am filled with longings for the foot- 
lights, and don’t you think I might wing my way 
to starry heights if I tried very hard?” 

“Never! You are mine, mine own, and the 
world must not call you from my arms for I 
need you, darling.” 

Throwing her white arms about his neck she 
pressed her cheek against his own and softly 
murmured: 

“I will give up everything — for you ! I only 

[ 324 ] 


UNCLE S'AM 


want you, Dick, only you can make me happy, 
and I don’t know whether this is love or not — 
but I want you to share all my joys and sorrows 
until ” 

He was overcome by this declaration pas- 
sionately made, and her sweet surrender caused 
him to lose all self-control, and he held her in 
a loving embrace as their lips met. It was the 
first kiss she had ever given to a man and he 
smiled at her in this moment so precious as to 
make a life time worth the living, too sacred to 
be marred by word. 

A little bird-like note fluttered from the folds 
of her gown at their feet, interrupting this first 
love tryst. 

“I see some one has been sending you love 
messages.” He would have read it, but she 
laughingly hid i* away from his sight again and 
he was none the wiser. 

“It is from my best admirer, but I won’t 
tell.” 

“I don’t care for I have you at last. I have 
had a very hard fight, but everything is all right 
now.” 

“Yes, dear, everything is all right.” She 
smiled for was not that little note a great com- 
fort. She would remain silent and let him 
stand alone for she wanted him to depend on 
himself, and she saw that he did not fear the 
responsibility that lay before him. 

[ 325 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Well, if my drama can be staged success- 
fully, that will be a little nest egg. Will you 
marry me soon, Vallie?” 

“Yes, the sooner the better, for since I have 
found out what love really means I am impa- 
tient for my wedding day. I never believed I 
could say such a thing but the thought of being 
your wife gives me delicious thrills from head 
to toe.” 

“Then let us set our wedding day to-night.” 

“I suggest that it be that day when your 
drama is first staged and we will witness it as 
bride and groom.” 

“Now, isn’t that romantic? Then I will take 
you away where I will have you all to myself 
and no one will know.” 

“Wherever it is I shall be happy — if you 
are there.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


CONFESSIONS. 

“Mis’ Randolph, I feel that I had one of 
the biggest an’ the finest chanct when I was Old 
York, an’ I am lookin’ to seein’ it in the city, 
for it can’t help but make a big fuss. D’ye 
know when I think that Richard done writ that 
soul-fillin’ piece I am carried plum away, an’ 
I reckon it’s accordin’ to the scriptures: ‘Your 
old men shall dream dreams, and your young 
men shall see visions.’ It is a vision of futur- 
ity, an’ the spirit can’t never die. The fight in 
man, whether for kingdoms or for gold or 
for power of other earthly things is gittin’ 
where it does most good. It’s fightin’ now for 
things that are wuth havin’ an’ I’m glad to see 
it kept up. It’s fightin’ for the savin’ of souls, 
not the destruction.” 

“That boy is a wonder, now ain’t he, an’ 
Sam, he’s just the one to bring to pass the set- 
tlement of this race trouble. It was ‘Uncle 
Tom’s Cabin’ what took the niggers out of 
slavery an’ I think that a strong book writ up 
’d put them back. They’ll be better off an’ so 
’d the whites.” 


[327] 


UNCLE SAM 


“No power of the pen c’n do that, Seenie, 
for it ain’t right that one man be in bondage 
to ’nuther.” 

“But what do the Bible say— ain’t the black 
race the one branded?” 

“Yes, they’re branded, p’raps, but it should 
not be the lash o’ man. They’re working out 
their own way an’ ’f they’re let be all ’s well. 
But the hatred in the heart of black or white ’s 
where the trouble lies. Kill the beast an’ then 
we have the peace that comes with good. War- 
ships and shot and shell can’t ever bring it, but 
they drives it farther away by their racket. 
Christ was reviled and crucified because he 
came as a lamb to save, not a lion to destroy. 
Let the years of war die away, an’ the years of 
peace be born.” 

Vallie was sitting on the pleasant veranda 
with Richard while the others were conversing 
on various topics of the day. 

“Good evenin’, Miss, can I rest a bit?” A 
shrivelled, silver-haired old man with a wizand 
face looked at her keenly. 

“An’ what may be your name?” How 
closely he watched her every move until she 
became nervous. 

“Vallie.” 

“That’s a pretty name.” He smiled in the 
only way he knew how, with a screwing up of 
his hardened features into a knot 
[328] 


UNCLE SAM 

The bent figure raised itself as Uncle Sam 
came out. 

“Bram!” 

“Sam!” 

“Oh, Uncle Bram, why didn’t you tell me 
who you were?” She held out her hands and 
he took them between his trembling fingers. 

“What do you think of me, Uncle Bram? 
Now I am a woman, you can have your wish 
for it has come true.” She stood very tall and 
smiled in her winning way. He could not 
speak for the moment for he had gone back- 
ward over the years to when his eyes had fol- 
lowed another in the bloom of youth. His 
weak eyes became moist and he looked fondly 
at the lithe, graceful figure with its curves and 
the beauty of face. 

“Sam, she’s like her, ain’t she?” He at last 
managed to say “yes, every inch her ma.” This 
pleased the girl more than anything possibly 
could for her ideal had been the dead mother. 
She took her Uncle’s face in her soft hands and 
kissed the lips that had never known a caress. 

“Oh, that was so sweet of you, Uncle Bram. 
I do want to be — like her. I am so glad that 
you came to see us.” Her sincerity won him 
over completely and in her sweet companion- 
ship he seemed to unfold as in those days when 
he talked with Lissie. 

Uncle Sam launched into an account of his 

[329] 


UNCLE SAM 


law-suit giving all the details in graphic man- 
ner, but the old man did not make any com- 
ments. He was glad to be able to give Bram 
an idea that he was successful, for he was sen- 
sitive over the opinion others held that he 
lacked business ability. 

“I’ve got a heap of plans that’ll yit work out. 
When the law-suit ’s settled then I c’n state 
what’s in my mind.” There was not the 
slightest sympathy between these two, yet Bram 
listened attentively, the while keeping his eye 
upon his niece. 

“Uncle Bram, I have the dearest secret, and 
shall I tell it to you? Dick and I are going to 
be married — soon.” Her eyes sparkled as she 
spoke, and he conceived an idea that made him 
smile back at her. 

“I’m mighty glad ” He gave a start as 

though he had seen a vision for Roscoe Yeager 
had come quietly before them. Seeing the 
aged miser he turned very white and addressed 
himself to Mr. Saylor. 

“I am glad to bring the good tidings that 
we — have w — o — n!” He had almost stam- 
mered out the victory, yet his manner was not 
noted by Uncle Sam, who grasped his hand 
firmly, with a heart overflowing with grateful 
thanks. He was calmly eyed by the small, old 
man, who wore an expression of triumph on his 
lean visage. Lydia and the others joined the 
[ 330 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


group, making the lawyer the centre of attrac- 
tion, one and all offering thanks and congratu- 
lations upon his success. Yeager believed that 
it had been the hand of Dr. Briggs which had 
set in motion that machinery which had sprung 
the trap at the last moment. He had not re- 
covered from its effects and the defeat had left 
deep marks of chagrin. 

“You won! I congratulate you!” The old 
man’s voice seemed to come from the grave, 
so deep and uncanny that all wondered at its 
premonition of evil. Why had Yeager grown 
paler? He turned as though he would leave 
them in this moment of rejoicing without so 
much as a word more. He was suddenly con- 
fronted by a miserable looking woman. 

“These rightfully belong to you, and I 
should have returned them before.” Belle 
Fletcher handed him the letters which he took 
as though he had not the power to speak. 
“They should burn your hands as they have 
mine!” Her face was deathly and her hair 
hung wet about her shoulders. She looked like 
one who had been through a terrible crisis. 
“Go back to that sweet wife and — baby, go 
and do your duty, as I am doing mine.” She 
looked long at the handsome face and then she 
said coldly: “A goodly apple, but rotten at the 
heart.” Then there spoke up another voice 
that stabbed him : 

[ 33 1 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“So you’ve been playin’ a double game. 
Wasn’t ’nough to break one woman’s heart but 
you wanted to break — hers! An’ for good 
measure you thought you’d rob an old man an’ 
a widow from what was theirs by right. I 
slipped up on you before it was too late, an’ 
the loss c’n be your punishment. Fair deal- 
ing is best, after all, an’, young man, I’d try 
to take a better road. Yes, go back to that 
woman an’ your child an’ rob no man!” Very 
impressive had been the old man’s speech, and 
the lawyer walked away with bowed head, not 
giving a last look at the one he had tried to 
win — by so doing losing all. 

“You see, Sam, I know that feller better than 
you do,” he smiled knowingly, “an’ I was ready 
for him. He was workin’ for you all right at 
the start but for some reason — I think I know 
what — he turned an’ took up sides with old 
Adams. Then I got some good lawyers an’ 
put them on to the game that was bein’ played 
in the court, an’ they got ready an’ when the 
case was called ’stead of it goin’ for Adams ft 
went the other way. I’d give all my money 
to ’ve whipped that scoundrel — both of ’em, 
the young one an’ the old. Wh — y, the widow 
come out han’some, for don’t that rascal have 
to make up to her for what he stole in the past, 
an’ your share — Sam, you’ve got more sense 
than I give you credit for — to git hold of that 
[ 332 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

land. Why, it’s money to you, ev’ry inch, if 
you c’n jest git it out.” 

“Bram, I’m too content to talk much but I 
give you my hand for savin’ me for it means 
ev’rythin’ to me — now. You see' I have aims 
that can’t be passed ’thout money, an’ now I 
reckon I c’n git it.” Uncle Sam’s face was 
wreathed in smiles and in this exciting moment 
other things had been overlooked. But Vallie 
drew her friend within and hastened to learn 
what had occurred which she in part already 
judged. 

“Oh, Vallie, will you ever forgive such 
treachery as I have been guilty of doing in 
withholding those letters? It was jealousy that 
silenced my lips!” Vallie could not speak, for 
it was the cruellest blow she had ever known! 
And to have been dealt by Belle was too appal- 
ling. She looked at the sorrow in the other’s 
sad face, but she could not heed her pleadings 
to be forgiven. 

“Belle, how could you — how could you — I 
would have staked my life on your fidelity!” 
Turning sharply upon her she asked: “Would 
you have seen me marry that man?” 

“No — no, I would not have done that sinful 
thing! Believe me, Vallie, I was ready to in- 
terfere at the last moment, but it was not nec- 
essary. You do not know what I suffered that 
night — what I have suffered all through these 

[333] ^ 


UNCLE SAM 

terrible days when I have been a demon — de- 
voured by that wicked love.” Vallie’s cold, 
biting words, full of heart-breaking sobs made 
Belle fall at her feet and cry brokenly: 

“Vallie, do not turn your face from me — 
or I shall die. I was close to death, and I will 
end the struggle unless ” 

“You were in danger, Belle, in peril, and I 
did not know!” 

“Yes, I tried to find peace at last — Walt 
came as I was sinking for the last time.” Her 
hot tears fell upon Vallie’s cold hands, which 
she kissed passionately. 

“Vallie, when I was on the borderland, I 
saw all things — it was even as you have told 
me — a waste of heart. In that awful moment I 
felt that I was reclaimed — my sins were 
washed away. I can beg forgiveness for I am 
myself again — the mad love is dead, and the 
old loyalty burns within me. Do not hold from 
me — the sweet kiss of — reconciliation.” 

Vallie kissed her and a long silence elapsed 
while they clasped hands. 

“Isn’t it strange how much can happen in a 
moment? You know, dear, how I have always 
thought of Walt — how I always said I would 
never marry him — he was too big, too homely? 
Vallie, how could I have thought such a thing, 
for when I saw his kind eyes looking into mine 
and saw that look on his honest face I thought 

[334] 


UNCLE SAM 

how noble he was — how fine — how true. It 
was a very narrow escape for both of us, and 
it has been the means of bringing us together — 
in death struggles we found one another — at 
last ! 

“When I am fit to be loved by a good man 
— then he may come to me — but I have much 
to learn before I can be worthy.” There was 
deep humility in her voice and her face had 
grown sweeter for all the pain that she had en- 
dured. 

“You are so intense, Belle, you will be just 
as good as you were — bad. But I am so glad, 
so glad. I know you have come back all right. 
I like Walt so much and he will be so true. Oh, 
Belle, what does that mean? Is it not more 
than other things that seem desirable? The 
love that will endure. Have we not much to 
be thankful for if we are offered this?” 

“Yes, and his kind was worthless after all. 
But he loved you, Vallie, he loved you in the 
way he was most capable of doing. I think that 
he would have tried to make you — happy.” 

“Happy, happy! What happiness could 
there have been if there was another woman 
waiting and hoping for him to come back? Oh, 
what would Gertrude say? How singular that 
he would have done what another did to his 
own sister. You know she had the same Fate.” 

“Indeed!” 


[ 335 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


“Yes, she told me about it, and thought I 
was safe in marrying her brother. Do women 
ever know even their own?” 

“We know those nearest and dearest, Vallie. 
Richard looks out from his eyes with an honest 
heart and could you find a more honest man 
than good old Walt.” A smile came over her 
face for the first time as though the tenseness of 
the past had yielded to softer influences. “It is 
a wonderful, beautiful privilege to be — loved. 
To be first in another’s thoughts — in his life.” 

“Yes, dear girl, I think we can feel that we 
have been blessed.” 

“Safe in the harbor — safe from the storm.” 
Belle’s face was very tender and her lips moved 
as though she said a wordless prayer. 

“It is so nice to be at peace, Vallie, and to 
know that nothing can ever again come between 
us in this life.” 


11336] 


CHAPTER XXL 


UNCLE SAM'S CHANCT. 

Later they enjoyed the cool of the evening 
as twilight fell softly over the old farmhouse, 
framed in with its mass of living green. 

“Richard, I can’t make out whether it’d be 
best to sell the water site or keep it myself an’ 
follow your plans, for you’ve got it mapped out 
in a way that I’d never in the worl’ have 
thought ’bout. Some c’n do one thing an’ some 
’nuther, but you’re a real genius, my boy, an’ 
no mistake. Them drawin’s are nice now, ain’t 
they, Seenie?” 

The land had now risen in Seenie’s estima- 
tion and she was much interested in the sub- 
ject of electricity. “Sam, I’d like to know how 
you can churn ’lectricity out’n plain water?” 

“You don’t churn it, you make it with a 
dynamo, an’ you have a turbine wheel that ain’t 
like an old water wheel you’re used to seein’. 
This is made of steel an’ the water poundin’ 
’g’in’ it makes electricity. When we gits our 
power goin’ you’ll see how ’tis done. The cold 
water you’ve throwed ’pon my poor land ’d 
make tons of the stuff, but now maybe you’ll 
[ 337 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


think I was right after all. Wa’al, you be 
one of the doubtin’ class, but I’m more than 
tickled that things are coming my way. I want 
to find somebody that’ll be interested in my 
scheme now, an’ help us ’long.” 

“I know someone who is interested.” Val- 
lie spoke up with a mischievous gleam in the 
sunny face. 

‘‘Now, who is it, little girl?” 

“Peter Randolph!’ 

“What you talkin’ ’bout, honey?” 

“He said he would pay a million dollars for 
it, and I advise that you sell.” She was very 
sober as they all stared at her. 

“You shouldn’t joke with your old father, 
Vallie. I’m in earnest about this bus’ness.” 

“I am, too, and so is Mr. Randolph. He 
and I have looked over the ground and he 
thinks a million cheap. What more could you 
ask?” 

“Now, Vallie, tell me if you mean it?” She 
ran to him and said gaily: 

“Read this note if you don’t believe me, for 
it will let out my big secret.” 

“Wa’al, wa’al, this beats all I ever heard of 
in my life. Mis’ Randolph, ain’t that his 
writin,’ you’ll know if this girl is doin’ her 
dad.” . 

“It is Peter’s writing. It must be the truth. 
I think I understand and it is very much like 
[ 338 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


him.” She was smiling as though she had 
heard news which gave her much joy. She 
looked at her son. His face was flushed with 
what he heard for it could mean but one thing 
— his father approved. 

“Vallie, Vallie, come to me!” She obeyed 
and he said sternly: “Now, out with all this 
plotting which you have been guilty of. Did 
you really take my father to the waterfall?” 

“I did. It was the morning I met you, and 
you would not believe me when I said I had 
been trying to make a million dollars.” 

“I thought I knew the woman I was going to 
marry — but how far I have been in the dark. 
You dear girl!” 

“Oh, Dick, we had such a nice time, and I 
like him so much. He was at the play, and the 
note I had was from him. He and I under- 
stand one another, and I think he likes Kaylis. 
I first went to his office and made arrange- 
ments to meet in Brighton. Wasn’t it a madcap 
thing to do? But I had the time of my life. 
Now, about this million dollar deal. It is to 
be paid to me on the condition that Richard is 
the promoter. So you have to work for it. Fa- 
ther will be in the partnership, but I am the 
boss.” 

“Vallie, that is just like you. I never know 
to what extent you will go. But to think that 
[ 339 ] 


.UNCLE SAM 

father has consented to everything.” There 
was new hope in his voice. 

“Dick, look at me!” Then she continued 
seriously-: 

“Didn’t I tell you that I would never marry 
against his wishes? Didn’t I have to bring him 
around on our side for — dear boy, I couldn’t 
get along without you. So I braved the big 
mogul and won !” 

“Were you very afraid?” He looked at 
her fondly, and added: “No man could with- 
stand that little smile. 

“Uncle Sam, it looks as though you and I 
will have to get busy and form our company. 
I’m glad that I have as much planned— now we 
will put it into execution. I am ready to go to 
work at last.” 

“You an’ me ’s been lazin’ long ’nough, I 
reckons, Dick. But your work ’ll be dif’rent 
to mine, yet we c’n both help the t’other ’long 
for co-’peration is the thing in life. 

“Now, you all knows that I ain’t never yit 
had my chanct an’ ” 

“Now, Sam, nip it right in the bud; you’ve 
got one of them crazy notions in your head.” 
Seenie was very stern. 

“Jest wait, Seenie, an’ let me have my say. 
I’ve at last come ’pon that chanct that I’ve been 
lookin’ an’ lookin’ for an’ it’s took hold o’ my 
heart an’ won’t let go. The others died ’way 
[ 340 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


easy like but this keeps on tuggin’ an’ gives me 
no peace o’ mind, an’ ” 

“Nor will we have any, Sam.” 

“Now, Seenie, hold up a bit. Why, ain’t it 
the greatest chanct of all, greater than come to 
Lincoln or Washington, an’ they’d been proud 
of ’t — to help make the boys of the big Repub- 
lic.” He smiled at them with the look on his 
face which he wore when he appeared at 
court. He pulled at his white beard reflectively 
as if choosing his words. 

“I run ’bout a heap, alwus hopin’ I’d find a 
fortune that ’d bring me joy an’ content- 
ment ” 

“Well, Sam, ain’t you got it now right to 
home?” His wife was clearly very uneasy. 

“Yes, Seenie, an’ that ’ll make possible the 
things my heart is sot on. I looked for my 
chanct to come with a hull brass band but it 
come so quiet like I didn’t know ’twas here at 
fust. Great things don’t make no fuss or 
feathers in the worl’, an’ that’s where we gits 
fooled. Mis’ Randolph, you knows how I took 
to your little book. I reckon that was the 
sowin o’ the seed that has sprung into sunthin’ 
that ’ll yit bloom a-plenty. I liked that book, I 
liked that li’le feller that had such a hard time, 
kicked an’ cuffed ’bout. It went deep into my 
heart an’ I couldn’t forgit. Now he was jest 
one, but there are so many more that have no 
[34i] 


UNCLE SAM 


kind friend like he found. It’s of them I’m 
thinkin’ all the time, an’ that gives me my 
chanct. I’ve been studyin’ ’em right smart in 
the city an’ it’s a sight the way they take to me. 
Why, I has more friends ’mong the boys. Me 
an’ them are partners, like me an’ Sam’l an’ it 
helps us both.” 

“Puttin’ that sweet baby ’long with those 
dirty boys.” 

“Seenie, d’ye ever think what our little Sam’l 
’d be if we left him in that big city where it’s 
nuthin’ but badness an’ poverty? What ’d he 
be but one of ’em? You can’t keep clean in a pig 
sty, an’ that’s what they are. Those little chaps 
are goin’ to be men an’ they’re goin’ to vote for 
President an’ now they’re rollin’ an’ grovellin’ 
in the gutters? What kind of men ’ll they be? 
What hope for a big kentry like our’n? Didn’t 
the Bible say that ‘a little child shall lead them / 
an’ where will they lead? To the bad an’ no 
place else. Now the gov’ment looks to the an- 
mal life but what does it do for the human? 
Seenie, rec’lect ’bout that census man?” 

“Yes, he ast me ’nough ’bout them pigs to 
make a book an’ I had my hands in the wash 
tub an’ couldn’t give the time.” 

“But he didn’t ast you one question ’bout 
Sam’l, what he cost to keep or if he was wuth 
keepin’. Natur’ an’ an’mal life is wuth savin’; 
but plain ornary human life ain’t. ’S I said 
[ 342 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

I’ve waited for my chanct with eyes open. Na- 
tur’ put within my heart the love of little chil- 
dren. I likes to see ’em at their play an’ hear 
their little voices singin’ in the early morn when 
they gits up with the sun. But they ain’t havin’ 
a fair chanct in our big land of freedom. 

“We’re thinkin’ ’bout other things that don’t 
count, for the child ’s the foundation of the 
heart, the home an’ the nation. ’F it’s bad it 
fills the prison, an’ we has to pay the price an’ 
worst of all it pays it, too. ’F it’s good it pays 
for the work of raisin’ an’ they c’n be good ’s 
well ’s bad, for it’s all in how they’re ’tended, 
jest like the flowers or the garden sass. When 
they ain’t hoed the weeds gits ’em an’ chokes 
’em out. They’re born poor an’ measley from 
parents that ain’t fit to be for they’re worked 
to the bone an’ then they’re vicious, too, which 
makes a bad beginnin’ for a little shaver. 

“All natur’ ’s jest droppin’ seeds for more 
growin’, an’ the great seed ’s the little child. 
Home is where this seed has to be looked after 
an’ think of the homes to-day! Some ’thout 
even a ray of light cornin’ in to pity the poor. 

A child ’s got to be taught more than book 
l’arnin’ an’ what makes me feel so bad ’s that 
there are so many that lose the light — the light 
of their souls. They may git shelter an’ food 
or not but they can’t save their little souls from 
dyin’ in the darkness that hems them in. They 
[ 343 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


die ’fore they’re born in a heap of cases, too. 

“Now, I wants to git hold of some of these 
shavers an’ give ’em a lift. I has so many idees 
that I c’n put into good use an’ they’ll be the 
better for ’t. I’m goin’ to have Uncle Sam’s 
Republic, an’ it’s goin’ to be filled with the 
finest citizens you ever seen. Me an’ the boys 
’ll show what c’n be done when we works right 
an’ together. I’ve got the names of a lot that 
’ll come when I gits ready for ’em.” 

“Sam! Sam!” He was suddenly brought to 
reality by the stern voice of his wife who could 
not endure any more. 

“Wa’al, Seenie?” His face was very mild 
and he patiently waited for her to speak as he 
knew she would in the end.” 

“Where are you goin’ to have those boys 
kept?” 

“I wanted to bring ’em here to the farm for 
I thought the meadows ’d be a nice place to 
play, an’ then we c’d farm an’ — they’re goin’ 
to work, Seenie, my boys are goin’ to be men.” 

“Sam, bring all those dirty little rascals to 
Andy’s farm? I think you are cracked now an’ 
no mistake. Huh! Huh!” 

“Seenie, then I can take them somewhere 
else for I must have the boys. Wh — y, they 
ain’t so bad after you knows them, an’ ” 

“Whose goin’ to cook for ’em an’ mend their 
clothes — let the parents that had ’em. I never 

[ 344 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

did think it was right for others to have to 
raise children what didn’t belong to ’em.” 

“Seenie, they ain’t got no parents to speak 
of, an’ you needn’t worry, we’ll git help to see 
after ’em. They c’n do a heap for theirselves 
under my plan.” 

“Huh! I knows your plans, Sam, leave the 
work on me.” 

“Now, who’s better able to look after my 
boys than you, Seenie?’ 

“Not me, Sam Saylor. It was ’nough to 
have Jinny ” 

“But think how the ugly ducklin’ ’s turned out. 
Hear the little girl singin’ now ’bout her work. 
She’s a fine player an’ she’s goin’ to git her 
chanct, too. Why, Seenie, if you’d turned her 
out she’d never be playin’ now. It’s the pity of 
the work how much better so many c’n be if 
things had come their way. My boys are go- 
in’ to have things right. I’ve been tryin’ to git 
all my days but in the end I finds that I was 
wantin’ to give. To help out mankind a bit 
’fore I’m blown away, an’ ain’t I got many a 
good year to work yit? Why, Andy’s farm 
’ll be the place in all Ameriky.” 

“No, Sam, not Andy’s farm.” The voice 
was very determined. He looked helplessly 
at his wife, then at Mrs. Randolph for sym- 
pathy. She could remain quiet no longer. 

“Uncle Sam, you will let me help, won’t 
[ 345 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

you?” Her voice echoed the feeling of her 
heart. 

“And me, Uncle Sam, for I love the boys 
myself, and I would like to be one of them 
again,” Dick spoke eagerly. 

“And you know that you couldn’t get along 
without my help?” Vallie’s eyes were sweet 
and full of love. 

“No, I need you all very much, for it’s a 
big work an’ it’ll take the money, too.” 

Bram was very silent studying the others. 
Teresa now ventured a remark for in her 
selfish heart there was one tender chord — she 
liked children very much. 

“Uncle Sam, get real nice children so that 
I can come and read to them sometimes. I like 
to be with good children when they are clean 
and have pretty faces. I never thought much 
about the poor little waifs, but it must be sad 
for them to have so little. Won’t you take me 
down on the East Side with you sometime, and 
let me see them?” 

“I’ll be glad to do it, an’ I’ve got a trip al- 
ready in mind, for Seenie ’ll want to see where 
my boys have been born.” 

“Never, Sam! You don’t get me into this 
mess.” He depended upon her so much that 
his face expressed his disappointment. 

“Now, Seenie, I can’t wonder at your holdin’ 
out on me for I has blundered a sight, but I 
[ 346 ] 


UNCLE SAM 


ain’t blunderin’ now. I’m on the right road, 
an’ won’t you join with the others in wishin’ 
me luck?” She knew that he had no heart 
when she was not with him, for her judgment 
had been his prop, and her face was hardened. 

“Uncle Sam, you have come very near to my 
heart, for I am so interested in this line of 
work, and you must call upon me whenever you 
need me. I know that at last you have found 
the chanct that was to be ! What better could 
come for you will be helping to make the men 
of to-morrow. I am afraid you will see me 
here most of the time for I will find such quan- 
tities of good copy, and Richard will not want 
to leave the farm much of the time — nor Val- 
Jie. But I will have my children part of the 
time and see that Richard doesn’t idle time 
away. You see, I am his business manager, and 
the prospect of his great drama being presented 
soon will occupy me until the wedding. Then 
look out, Seenie, for we will surprise you with 
what we will do. And your help ? Why, what 
could we do without you in such a big work, for 
you are the real manager, and if there were a 
hundred boys all would have clean faces under 
your care. I think that Old York’s idea of 
freedom will be exemplified in your Republic.” 

“Yes, the little singin’ bird will not be 
harmed by the hunter’s trumpet, and all life 
will be safe.” But Seenie would not be per- 
[ 347 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

suaded in the cause. It seemed that this was 
too much for Sam to ask for had she not al- 
ways consented to wjhat was possible, but this 
was so — impossible. She looked about her at 
the order and thought of all those boys who 
would rule where she had once been mistress. 
It was too much — too much! If Sam had 
wanted to go travelin’ she’d have give in, she 
told him, but them boys — with their racket. 

“Ain’t you goin’ to have any girls, Sam? 
You know I likes them the best.” 

“Why, yes, we’ll have some girls for they 
are needed to keep the boys from gittin’ too 
important. What’d become of me ’thout you,' 
Seenie?” 

“Do you know where we are going on our 
wedding trip?” 

“To the old countries, why, Vallie, I wisht 
I was goin’, too. I alwus did want to see fur- 
rien parts, an’ ” 

“Dick, we’ll take him along. Won’t that 
be grand? Yes, you’re going, old dear, for I' 
wouldn’t enjoy it leaving you behind when I' 
think how you’re such a traveler. Seenie can 
come along.” 

“Take him, but not me. I ain’t pinin’ for 
them salt waves churnin’ roun’ me. By the 
time he gits back he’ll done forgit all ’bout 
them boys, so you see I has my own ends in 
sendin’ him off.” But even the thought of a' 
[ 348 ] 


UNCLE SAM 

trip would never change his plans — it was fixed 
as a star which rises each night in its accus- 
tomed orbit. Uncle Sam was at last anchored. 
He might wander, but he would return to where 
his heart lay — he had found a home in the 
work before him, even as would the many 
others that came within his care. 

“Vallie, your father ’ll give ev’ry cent he 
gits to charity an’ ev’ry cent o’ mine goes to 
you. I wants you to have it now — you c’n take 
it ’thout strings, leavin’ me a little for my 
needs.” Bram smiled at her and she was too 
amazed to speak. He took her hand and 
looked in her eyes. 

“I’ve saved it for you, little girl, but don’t 
let Sam fool it away. Yeager wanted it. He 
made my will. I knows you’ll give Sam all he 
wants, but I don’t know ’s it’s right to feed 
paupers. I was poor an’ made my way ’thout 
help an’ let others do the same. Sam, how’d 
you like to take me in ’s one of the boys? I’m 
needin’ lookin’ after, for I ain’t no one to care 
for me — an’ I won’t las’ long.” There was 
great yearning in the old man’s face for after 
years of privations he had found a place he 
could call home. 

“Bram, you’re more than welcome, an’ you’ll 
be a good hand to help with the boys. You c’n 
show ’em how you’ve got ahead for you know 
I was not much hand to make. You c’n be 
[ 349 ] 


.UNCLE SAM 

useful here an’ I wants you to stay.” Seenie 
realized that her husband for once was not 
waiting for her approval. This made her the 
more opposed and stolid. Bram began to look 
more human as Seenie said, and now what 
would they do with the girls? Reuben had 
kept the ring and this seemed to settle the ques- 
tion once for all. Lydia was happy without 
them and they clung to Seenie in their desola- 
tion. Between the doctor and Seenie they 
were getting good training, and they bid fair 
to yet become useful members of society. 
Seenie decided that after Vallie was married 
she would get lonesome and the girls would be 
company. 

That night she awoke her husband from his 
sound sleep. He had been talking to his boys 
and now he heard a voice: 

“Andy’s willin’, Sam, he’s willin’. He’s give 
the sign.” 

“How’s that, Seenie?” 

“Well, Sam, I’ll tell you how ’tis. I heard 
three loud knocks on the wall, an’ I know that 
Andy ain’t pleased with me for some good rea- 
son, an’ I studied over it an’ reckon it’s ’cause 
I’m holdin’ out on you ’bout havin’ the chil- 
dren. Andy’s willin’ to ’t, an’ now, Sam Say- 
lor, you go ahead an’ git the blind, an’ the 
halt, an’ see if I care a red cent. All these 
years you’ve schemed to git Andy’s farm for 
[35o] 


UNCLE SAM 


one thing or ’nuther, an’ now I wants you to 
take the hull thing, an’ your everlastin’ chanct 
’long with it. 

“Seems to me there shouldn’t be no need 
of so much charity in a worl’ run right, but 
we’re all more or less paupers it seems or git- 
tin’ there faster ’n the other way; folks ’ll 
have to help out till a better worl’ is here.” 

“Yes, Seenie, till that day when no man ’s 
borrowin’ an’ beggin’, but gittin’ the biggest 
chanct of all, — the chanct to help hisself right. 

“Uncle Sam’s Republic will be known far 
and near for the good it’ll do an’ the souls it’ll 
save for the future. The fust one to come *s 
goin’ to be the worst boy in New York State; 
he is cruel and I’m goin’ to see what I c’n do 
with such a boy ’s him. ’F he ain’t jest a born 
criminal I c’n make a dif’rent boy o’ him, and 
that Seenie, ’ll be our fust work, which ain’t go- 
in’ to stop either, for if anythin’ ’s wuth savin’ 
I reckon it’s the children.” 


[The End.] 


[35i] 


DEC 7 1912 

































































































































































LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


































